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FORMATION 



OF THE 



CHRISTIAN CHARACTER 



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ON THE 




FORMATION 



OF THE 

CHRISTIAN CHARACTER 

ADDRESSED 

TO THOSE WHO ARE SEEKING TO LEAD 

A RELIGIOUS LIFE. 



By HENRY WARE, Jr. 

Professor of Pulpit Eloquence and the Pastoral Care 



in Harvard University. 




CAMBRIDGE : 

HILLIARD AND BROWN. 

BOSTON : 

GRAY AND BOWEN. 

M DCCC XXXI. 



■ \1^ 



Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1831, 

by Milliard & Brown, 

in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of Massachusetts. 



/d & $' 



CAMBRIDGE : 

E. W, METCAL.F AND COMPANV, 

Printers to the University. 



LC Control Number 




tmp96 027699 



PREFACE. 



In presenting to the religious public this 
little book, the writer has only to say, that 
he undertook it because he thought that 
a work of this character was needed and 
would be welcome. During his active 
ministry he had often felt the want of a 
book on personal religion different, in some 
respects, from any which had fallen in his 
way ; and when compelled by ill health to 
relinquish his pastoral cares, he attempted 
to beguile some of the languid hours of a 
m weary convalescence by efforts at compos- 
p ing such an one. The result has come 
i very far short of the idea which he had form- 
ed in his mind. The book was written at 
a 



TV- 



distant and uncertain intervals, upon jour- 
neys and in public houses, and has been now 
revised for the press in the midst of other 
cares, which have allowed no time for giv- 
ing it the completeness he desired. Yet, 
as it belongs to a class of writings of 
whose importance he has the highest 
sense, and the multiplication of which, as 
well as the increase of a taste for their 
perusal, he esteems in the highest measure 
desirable ; — he ventures to hope that this 
slight effort will not be wholly lost ; and 
that it may at least do something towards 
exciting others to a preparation of more 
efficient works, which shall nourish the 
spirit of devotion, and extend the power of 
practical faith. 

Cambridge, May 16, 1831. 



CONTENTS. 



Introduction 1 

CHAPTER I. 

The Nature of Religion, and what we are to 
seek. — Religion described — exemplified in 
the character of Christ — an arduous attain- 
ment — caution against low views . . 5 

CHAPTER II. 

Our Power to obtain that which we seek. — The 
capacity for religion in human nature — edu- 
cation — the natural and the spiritual life — 
man's ability to do the will of God — false 
humility — salvation by grace ... 18 

CHAPTER HI. 

The State of Mind in which the Inquirer should 
sustain himself. — Sense of unworthiness — 
anxiety of mind — rules to be observed re- 
specting retirement, conversation, public 
meetings . 34 

CHAPTER IV. 

The Means of Religious Improvement . . 47 

I. Reading. — Duty of seeking religious know- 
ledge — its advantages — time to be given to it 
— the Bible — to be read for instruction in 
truth — for self- application — selection of other 
books . 47 



vm 

II. Meditation. — Its object — habitual thought- 
fulness — seasons of meditation — enjoyment 
to be expected in them — caution — three 
purposes to be answered . . . 68 

III. Prayer. — Its necessity and value — im- 
portance of set times — method to be observ- 
ed — subjects — posture — language — fre- 
quency and brevity — ejaculatory prayer — 
faith, fervor, perseverance — answers to prayer 

— topics — in the name of Christ — caution — 
spirit of devotion 83 

IV. Preaching. — A divine institution — neces- 
sity of preparation for hearing — a critical 
disposition — reflection on what has been 
heard — on keeping a record of sermons — 
weakness of memory — a taste for preaching 

to be preserved . . . . . 118 

V. The Lord's Supper. — Its object twofold, 
profession of faith, and means of improvement 

— who to partake, and when — an affecting 
and comprehensive rite — an opportunity for 
silent worship — conclusion . . • 135 

CHAPTER V. 

The Religious Discipline of Life. — The means 
of religion not to be mistaken for the end — 
watchfulness — daily duties and trials — disci- 
pline of the thoughts, dispositions, passions, 
appetites — conversation — ordinary deport- 
ment — guard to be kept over the principles — 
and over the habits 148 



FORMATION 



OF THE 

CHRISTIAN CHARACTER 



INTRODUCTION. 

I am anxious to bespeak the reader's right 
attention before he enters on the following 
pages. They have been written only for 
those who are sincerely desirous of knowing 
themselves, and are bent upon forming a re- 
ligious character. They can be of little 
interest or value to any other person, or if 
read with any other view than that of self- 
improvement. I venture therefore to entreat 
every one, into whose hands the book may 
fall, to peruse it, as it has been written, not 
for entertainment, but for moral edification ; 
to read it at those seasons when he is seri- 
ously disposed, and can reflect upon the 
important topics presented to his view. I 
am solicitous to aid him in the formation of 



his Christian character, and about every 
other result I am indifferent. 

I would even presume, further, to warn 
one class of readers, and that not a small 
one, against a danger which lurks even in 
their established respect for religion. That 
general regard for it, which grows out of the 
circumstances of education and the habits 
of society, may be mistaken for a religious 
state of mind ; yet it is perfectly consistent 
with religious indifference. A man may 
sincerely honor, advocate, and uphold the 
religion of Christ on account of its general 
influence, its beneficial public tendency, 
its humane and civilizing consequences, 
without at all subjecting his own temper and 
life to its laws, or being in any proper sense 
a subject of the peculiar happiness it imparts. 
This is perhaps not an infrequent case. 
Men need to be made sensible that religion 
is a personal thing, a matter of personal 
application and experience. Unless it is so 
considered, it will scarcely be an object of 
earnest pursuit, or of fervent, hearty interest, 
nor can it exert its true and thorough in- 
fluence on the character. Indeed, its desir- 
able influence upon the state of society can 



be gained only through this deep personal 
devotion to it of individuals ; because none 
but this is genuine religion, and the genuine 
only can exhibit the genuine power. 

I know of nothing to be more earnestly 
desired, than that men should cease to look 
upon religion as designed for others, and 
should come to regard it as primarily affect- 
ing themselves ; that they should first and 
most seriously study its relation to their own 
hearts, and be above all things anxious 
about their own characters. His is but a 
partial and unsatisfactory faith, which is 
concerned wholly with the state of society 
in general, and allows him to neglect the 
discipline of his own affections and the cul- 
ture of his own spiritual nature. He is but 
poorly fitted to honor or promote the cause of 
Christ, who has not first subjected his own 
soul to his holy government. There are 
men enough, when Christianity is prevalent 
and honorable, to lend it their countenance 
and pay it external homage. We want more 
thorough, consistent exemplifications of its 
purity, benevolence, and spirituality. These 
can be found only in men, who love it for 
its own sake, and because it is the wisdom 



of God and the power of God unto salvation, 
and not simply because it is respectable in 
the eyes of the world, and favorable to the 
decency and order of the commonwealth. It 
is for those who are seeking this end, and for 
such only, that I write. 



CHAPTER I. 

THE NATURE OF RELIGION, AND WHAT WE 

ARE TO SEEK. 

In order to the intelligent and successful 
pursuit of any object, it is necessary, first of 
all, to have a definite conception of what we 
desire to effect or obtain. This is especially 
important in the study of Religion, both 
because of the extent and variety of the 
subject itself, and because of the very dif- 
ferent apprehensions of men respecting it. 
Many are disheartened and fail, in conse- 
quence of setting out with wrong views and 
false expectations. From which cause re- 
ligion itself suffers ; being made answerable 
for failures, which are entirely owing to the 
unreasonable anticipations and ill-directed 
efforts of those who enlisted in her service, 
but did not persevere in it. 

Let us begin, then, with considering what 
is the object at which we aim when we seek 
a religious character. 
a2 



6 

Religion, in a general sense, is founded 
on man's relation and accountableness to his 
Maker ; and it consists in cherishing the 
sentiments and performing the duties which 
thence result, and which belong to the other 
relations to other beings which God has ap- 
pointed him to sustain. 

Concerning these relations, sentiments, 
and duties we are instructed in the Scrip- 
tures, especially in the New Testament. 
Religion, with us, is the Christian religion. 
It is found in the teachings and example of 
Jesus Christ. It consists in the worship, 
the sentiments, and the character, which 
he enjoined, and which he illustrated in his 
own person. 

What you are to seek, therefore, is, under 
the guidance of Jesus Christ, to feel your 
relation to God, and to live under a sense of 
responsibility to him ; to cultivate assidu- 
ously those sentiments and affections which 
spring out of this responsible and filial rela- 
tion, as well as those which arise out of your 
connexion with other men as his offspring ; 
to perform all the duties to Him and them 
which appertain to this character and rela- 
tion ; and to cherish that heavenward ten- 



dency of mind, which should spring from a 
consciousness of possessing an immortal 
nature. He who does all this is a religious 
man ; or, in other words, a Christian. 

You desire to be a Christian. To this 
are requisite three things : belief in the 
truths which the gospel reveals ; possession 
of the state of mind which it enjoins ; and 
performance of the duties which it requires. 
Or, I may say, the subjection of the mind 
by faith, the subjection of the heart by love, 
the subjection of the will by obedience. 
This universal submission of yourself to God 
is what you are to aim at. This is Religion. 

Observe how extensive a thing it is. It is a 
principle of the mind ; founded upon thought, 
reflection, inquiry, argument ; and leading 
to devotion and duty as most reasonable and 
suitable for intelligent beings. 

It is a sentiment or affection of the heart ; 
not the cold action of the intellectual man 
alone, in behalf of what is right, but a warm, 
glowing feeling of preference and desire ; 
a feeling, which attaches itself in love to 
the Father of all and to all good beings ; 
which turns duty into inclination, and pur- 
sues virtue from impulse ; which prefers and 
a3 



8 

delights in that which is well pleasing to 
God, and takes an affectionate interest in 
the things to which the Saviour devoted 
himself. 

It is a rule of the life ; it is the law of 
God ; causing the external conduct to cor- 
respond to the principle which is established, 
and the sentiment which breathes, within ; 
bringing every action into a conformity 
with the divine will, and making universal 
holiness the standard of the character. 

The Scriptures represent religion under 
each of these different views. As & princi- 
ple, it is called Faith ; and in this view is 
Faith extolled as the essential thing for life 
and salvation. We are to ' walk by faith/ 
We are ' saved by faith.' — As a sentiment, 
it is styled Love. Love to God and man is 
declared by the Saviour to.be the substance 
of religion ; and the Apostles, especially 
John and Paul, every where represent this 
universal affection as the essence and the 
beauty of the Christian character. No one can 
read their language, and compare with it the 
life of Christ, without perceiving how essen- 
tially true religion is a sentiment. — As a 
law or rule, it is spoken of throughout the 



9 



Scriptures. It is a commandment of God, 
requiring obedience. We are ' to do his will. 5 
Christ is the ' author of salvation to those 
that obey him.' ' If thou wilt enter into life, 
keep the commandments. 5 ' He who keepeth 
my commandments, he it is that loveth me.' 

In the general complexion of Scripture, 
and in many particular passages, these seve- 
ral views are united and blended together : 
thus we are told, that ' the fruit of the 
spirit is love, joy, peace, longsuffering, 
gentleness, goodness, faith, meekness, tem- 
perance ' ; that the blessing of God belongs 
to the humble, penitent, meek, pure in heart, 
merciful, and peaceful ; that the Christian 
character consists in ' whatsoever is true, 
honest, just, pure, lovely, and of good re- 
port ' ; in adding to ' faith, virtue, knowledge, 
temperance, patience, godliness, brotherly 
kindness, and charity ' ; and ' in denying un- 
godliness and w r orldly lusts, and living so- 
berly, righteously, and godly.' # 

You see then what is the character of the 
religion which you are seeking. You per- 
ceive that it implies the absolute supremacy 

* Gal. v. 22, 23. — Matthew, v. 3-9. — Philip, iv. 8. 
— 2 Peter, i. 6, 7. — Titus, ii. 12. 

a4 



10 



of the soul and its interests, over all the 
objects and interests of the present state ; 
and that its primary characteristic is a cer- 
tain state of mind and affections. It is not 
the external conduct, not the observance of 
the moral law alone, which constitutes a 
religious man ; but the principles from 
which he acts, the motives by which he 
is governed, the state of his heart. A prin- 
ciple of spiritual life pervades his intellectual 
nature, gives a complexion to his whole 
temper, and is the spring of that moral worth, 
which is in other men the result of educa- 
tion, circumstances, or interest. He is ac- 
tuated by a prevailing sense of God, and 
the desire of a growing resemblance to his 
moral image. He is possessed with the 
perpetual consciousness of his immortality ; 
and is not ashamed to deny himself any of 
the gratifications of the present hour, when 
thereby he may keep his mind more disen- 
gaged for the study of truth and the con- 
templation of his highest good. Living 
thus with his chief sources of happiness 
within him, he bears with equanimity the 
changes and trials of earth, and tastes some- 
thing of the peculiar felicity of heaven, 



11 



which is righteousness, and peace, and joy in 
a holy spirit ; and, like his master, who 
sojourned below, but whose affections were 
above, he does his Father's will as he passes 
through the world, but has treasured up his 
supreme good in his Father's future pres- 
ence. 

But if you would discern the full excel- 
lence and loveliness of the religious life, do 
not rest satisfied with studying the law, or 
musing over the descriptions of it. Go to 
the perfect pattern which has been set be- 
fore the believer for his guidance and en- 
couragement. Look unto Jesus, the author 
and finisher of your faith. In him are 
exhibited all the virtues which you are to 
practise, all the affections and graces which 
you are to cultivate. In him is that rich 
assemblage of beautiful and attractive ex- 
cellences, which has been the admiration 
of all reflecting men, the astonishment and 
eulogy of eloquent unbelievers, and the 
guide, consolation, and trust of faithful dis- 
ciples. In the dignity and sweetness which 
characterize him, how strongly do we feel 
that there is much more than a display of 
external qualities, conformity to a pre- 



12 

scribed rule, and graceful propriety of out- 
ward demeanor. Nothing is more striking 
than the evident connexion of every thing 
which he said and did with something inter- 
nal. The sentiment and disposition which 
reign within, are constantly visible through 
his exterior deportment ; and we regard his 
words and his deeds less as distinct outward 
things, than as expressions or representa- 
tions of character. As in looking on cer- 
tain countenances we have no thought of 
color, feature, or form, but simply of the 
moral or intellectual qualities which they 
suggest ; so, in contemplating the life of 
Jesus, we find ourselves perpetually looking 
beyond his mere actions, and fixing our 
thoughts on the qualities which they indi- 
cate. His life is but the expressive coun- 
tenance of his soul. We feel, that, though 
in the midst of present things, he is led by 
principles, wrapt in thoughts, pervaded by 
sentiments, which are above earth, unearth- 
ly ; that he is walking in communion with 
another sphere ; and that the objects around 
him are matters of interest to him, no fur- 
ther than as they afford materials for the 
exercise of his benevolence, and opportuni- 
ties for doing his Father's will. 



13 



This is the personification of religion. 
This is the model which you are to imitate. 
And it is when you shall be imbued with 
this spirit, when you shall be filled with 
this sentiment, when your words, actions, 
and life shall be only the spontaneous ex- 
pression of this state of mind, — it is then 
that you will have attained the religious 
character, and become spiritually the child 
of God. You will have built up the king- 
dom of God within you ; its purity, its de- 
votion, and its peace will be shed abroad in 
your heart, and thence will display them- 
selves in the manners and conduct of your 
life. 

To attain and perfect this character is to 
be the object of your desire, and the busi- 
ness of your life. You must never lose sight 
of it. In all that you learn, think, feel, and 
do, you are to have reference to this end. 
Whatever tends to promote this, you are to 
cherish and favor. Whatever hinders this, 
or in any degree operates injuriously upon 
it, you are to discountenance and shun. 
All that gives bias to your passions and 
appetites, to your inclinations and thoughts, 
to your opinion of yourself, to your conduct 



14 

toward others, your private or public em- 
ployment of your time, your business and 
gains, your recreation and pleasures, is to be 
judged of by a reference to this standard, 
and condemned or approved accordingly. 
You are to feel that nothing is of such con- 
sequence to you as the Christian character ; 
that to form this is the very work for which 
you were sent into the world ; that if this 
be not done, you do nothing, — you had bet- 
ter never have been born ; for your life is 
wasted without effecting its object, and your 
soul enters on eternity without having se- 
cured its salvation. The provisions of God's 
mercy are slighted, and for you, the Saviour 
has lived and died in vain. 

It is plain then, that the work to which 
you address yourself is arduous as well as de- 
lightful. It is not to be done in a short time, 
nor by a few indolent or violent efforts ; not 
by an excitement of feeling, nor by an ex- 
ercise of speculative reason, nor by assent 
to professions, forms, and rites ; not by a 
love of hearing the word preached, nor by 
attention to the morals of ordinary life, nor 
by steadfastness in the virtues which are 
easy and pleasant ; — but only by a surren- 



15 



der of the whole man and the entire life to 
the will of God, in faith, affection, and ac- 
tion ; by a thorough imitation of Jesus in 
the devout and humble temper of his mind, 
in the spirituality of his affections, and in 
the purity and loveliness of his conduct. Any 
thing less than this, any partial, external, 
superficial conformity to a rule of decent 
living or ritual observance, must be wholly 
insufficient. For it cannot mould and rule 
the character, cannot answer the claims of 
the Creator upon his creatures, nor prepare 
for the happiness which Jesus has revealed ; 
a happiness so described, and so constituted, 
that none can be fitted for it or be capable 
of enjoying it, but those who are earnestly 
and entirely conformed to the divine will. 
Who can relish the spiritual pleasures of 
eternity, that has not become spiritually 
minded 1 Who could enjoy admission to 
the society of Jesus and the spirits of the 
just made perfect, that is not like them ? 
Why should one hope for heaven, and how 
expect to be happy there, if he have not 
formed a taste for its habits of purity, wor- 
ship, and love ? 



16 



Be on your guard, therefore, from the 
first, against setting your mark too low. Do 
not allow yourself to be persuaded that any 
thing less is Religion, or will answer for 
you, than its complete and highest measure. 
Remember that these things must be " in 
you and abound." The higher you aim, 
the higher you will reach ; but if content 
with a low aim, you will for ever fall short. 
The scriptural word is Perfection. Strive 
after that. Never be satisfied while short 
of it, and then you will be always improving. 
But if you set yourself some definite meas- 
ure of goodness, if you prescribe to yourself 
some limit in devotion and love, you will by 
and by fancy you have reached it, and thus 
remain stationary in a condition far below 
what you might have attained. Remember 
always, that you are capable of being more 
devout, more charitable, more humble, more 
devoted and earnest in doing good, better 
acquainted with religious truth ; and that, 
as it is impossible there should be any period 
to the progress of the human soul, so it is 
impossible that the endeavour of the soul 
should be too exalted. It is because men do 
not think of this, or do not practically ap- 



17 

ply it, that so many even of those who in- 
tend to govern themselves by religious mo- 
tives, remain so lamentably deficient in 
excellence. They adopt a low or a partial 
standard, and strive after it sluggishly, and 
thus come to a period in religion before they 
arrive at the close of life. Happy they, 
who are so filled with longings after spiritual 
good, that they go on improving to the end 
of their days. 



18 



CHAPTER II. 

OUR POWER TO OBTAIN THAT WHICH WE 
SEEK. 

The account which has been given of reli- 
gion in the preceding chapter, shows it 
to be consonant to man's nature, and suited 
to the faculties with which God has en- 
dowed him. His soul is formed for religion, 
and the gospel has been adapted to the con- 
stitution of his soul. His understanding 
takes cognizance of its truths, his conscience 
applies them, his affections are capable of 
becoming interested in them, and his will of 
being subject to them. There can be no mo- 
ment of existence, after he has come to the 
exercise of his rational faculties, at which 
this is not the case. As soon as he can 
love and obey his parents, he can love and 
obey God ; and this is religion. The capa- 
city of doing the one is the capacity of do- 
ing the other. 

It is true, the latter is not so universally 
done as the former ; but the cause is not.. 



19 

that religion is unsuited to the young, but 
that their attention is engrossed by visible 
objects and present pleasures. Occupied 
with these, it requires effort and pains-tak- 
ing to direct the mind to invisible things : 
to turn the attention from the objects which 
press them on every side, to the abstract, 
spiritual objects of faith. Hence it is 
easy to see, that the want of early religion 
is owing primarily to the circumstances in 
which childhood is placed, and next to re- 
missness in education. Worldly things are 
before the child's eye, and minister to its 
gratification every hour and every minute ; 
but religious things are presented to it only 
in a formal and dry way once a week. The 
things of the world are made to constitute 
its pleasures ; those of religion are made its 
tasks. It is made to feel its dependence on 
a parent's love every hour ; but is seldom 
reminded of its dependence on God, and 
then perhaps only in some stated lesson, 
which it learns by compulsion, and not in 
the midst of the actual engagements and 
pleasures of its little life. It partakes of 
the caresses of its human parents, and can- 
not remember the time when it was not an 



20 



object of their tenderness ; so that their im- 
age is interwoven with its very existence. 
But God it has never seen, and has seldom 
heard of him ; his name and presence are 
banished from common conversation, and in- 
ferior and visible agents receive the gratitude 
for gifts which come from him. So also the 
parent's authority is immediate and visibly 
exercised, and obedience grows into the 
rule and habit of life. But that of God is 
not displayed in any sensible act or declara- 
tion ; it is only heard of at set times and 
in set tasks, and thus fails of becoming min- 
gled with the principles of conduct, or form- 
ing a rule and habit of subjection. In a 
word, let it be considered how little and 
how infrequently the idea of God is brought 
home to the child's mind, even under the 
most favorable circumstances, and how little 
is done to make him the object of love and 
obedience, in comparison with what is 
done to unite its affections to its parents ; 
while, at the same time, the spirituality 
and invisibility of the Creator render it 
necessary that even more should be done ; 
— and it will be seen that the want of an 
early and spontaneous growth of the relig- 



21 

ious character is not owing to the want of 
original capacity for religion, but is to be 
traced to the unpropitious circumstances in 
which childhood is passed, and the want of 
uniform, earnest, persevering instruction. 

I have made this statement for two rea- 
sons. First, because I think it points out 
the immense importance of a religious edu- 
cation, and is an urgent call upon parents 
for greater diligence in this duty. No pa- 
rent will deliberately say, in excuse for his 
neglect, that his children are incapable of 
apprehending and performing their duty to 
God. He will perceive that the same opera- 
tion of circumstances and of unceasing in- 
fluences, which has made them devoted to 
him, would make them devoted to God ; and 
religion is that state of mind toward God, 
which a good child exercises toward a pa- 
rent. It is the same principle and the same 
affections, fixing themselves on an infinitely 
higher object. Let parents be aware of this, 
and they will feel the call and the encour- 
agement to a more systematic and affection- 
ate attention to the religious instruction of 
their children. 



22 

I have made this statement, moreover, be- 
cause it offers a guide to those who have 
passed through childhood without perma- 
nent religious impressions, and are now 
desirous of attaining them. It is principal- 
ly for such that I write. They may be di- 
vided into many classes ; some more and 
some less distant from the kingdom of God ; 
some profligate, some indifferent; some with 
much goodness of outward performance, 
but with no internal principle of faith and 
piety ; and some without even external con- 
formity to right. But however differing in 
their past course of life, and in the peculiar 
habits and dispositions which characterize 
them, in one thing they now agree, — they 
are sensible of their errors and sins, and 
desire to apply themselves to that true and 
living way, which shall lead them to the favor 
of God and everlasting life. They feel that 
there is a great work to be done, a great 
change to be effected, either internally, or 
externally, or both, and they are desirous to 
learn in what manner it shall be effected. 

To such persons the statement which I 
have made above may be useful. Let them 
look back to it, and reflect upon it. God 



23 

has given them powers for doing the work 
which he has assigned to them. That work 
is expressed in one word — the comprehen- 
sive name Religion. That work they should 
have begun and perseveringly pursued from 
their earliest days. But they have done 
otherwise. They have wandered from duty, 
and been unfaithful to God. They have 
gone far from him, like the unwise prodigal, 
and wasted the portion he gave them in 
vicious or unprofitable pursuits. They have 
cultivated the animal life ; they have lived 
- according to the flesh. ; They need to cul- 
tivate the spiritual life ; to live ' according 
to the spirit.' There is an animal life, and 
there is a spiritual life. Man is born into 
the first at the birth of his body ; he is born 
into the second, when he subjects himself to 
the power of religion, and prefers his ration- 
al and immortal to his sensual nature. Dar- 
ing his earliest days he is an animal only, 
pursuing, like other animals, the wants and 
desires of his body, and consulting his pres- 
ent gratification and immediate interest. 
But it is not designed that he shall continue 
thus. He is made for something better and 
higher. He has a nobler nature and nobler 
b2 



24 

interests. He must learn to live for these ; 
and this learning to feel and value his 
spiritual nature and to live for eternity ; this 
change from the animal and earthly exist- 
ence of infancy, to a rational, moral, spirit- 
ual existence, — this it is to be born into the 
spiritual life. This is a renovation of prin- 
ciple and purpose through which every one 
must pass. Every one must thus turn from 
his natural devotion to things earthly to a 
devotion to things heavenly. This change 
it is the object of the gospel to effect ; and 
we seek no less than this, when we seek the 
influence of the gospel on our souls. 

Now the persons of whom I am speaking 
have not yet acquired this new taste and 
principle. It has made with them no part 
of the process of education. It is yet to be 
acquired. They are desirous of acquiring 
it. Let them first be persuaded of its absolute 
necessity. Until this is felt, nothing can be 
effectually done. Without it there will be 
no such strenuous effort for religious attain- 
ment as is necessary to success. Many per- 
sons have at times, some have frequently, a 
certain conviction upon their minds that 
they are not passing their lives as they 



25 

ought, and they make half a resolution to 
do differently. They are ill content with 
their condition, they long to be free from 
the reproaches of conscience, they wish to 
be assured that their souls are safe. But 
although uneasy and dissatisfied, they take 
no steps towards improving their condition, 
because they have no proper persuasion of 
its absolute necessity. They must be deep- 
ly convinced of this. They must strongly 
feel that a state of indifference is a state of 
danger ; that they are on the brink of ruin, 
so long as they are alienated from God, and 
governed by passion, appetite, and inclina- 
tion, rather than a sense of duty. And such 
is the power of habit, that they in vain hope 
to be delivered from its bondage, and to be- 
come consistent followers of Christ, unless 
a strong feeling shall lead them to make a 
resolute, energetic effort. If they allow them- 
selves to fancy that it will be time enough 
by and by ; that, after all, the case is not 
very desperate, but can be remedied at any 
time ; and that it would be a pity yet to 
abandon their pleasant vices ; — then there 
is no hope for them. They are cherishing 
the most dangerous of all states of mind ; 
b3 



26 

a state, which prevents all real desire for 
improvement, is continually weakening their 
power of change, and absolutely destroys 
the prospect of amendment. They must 
begin the remedy by a persuasion of its 
necessity. They must feel it so strongly, 
that they cannot rest content without imme- 
diately subjecting themselves to the domin- 
ion of religion, — as a starving man feels 
the necessity of immediately applying to the 
search for food. No man will give himself 
to the thoughts, studies, devotions, and chari- 
ties of a religious life, who does not find 
them essential to the satisfaction and peace 
of his mind, that is, who is satisfied without 
them. Cherish therefore the conviction of 
this necessity. Cultivate by every possible 
means a deep persuasion of the truth, that 
the service and love of God are the only 
sufficient sources of happiness ; and that 
only pain and shame can await him, who 
witholds his soul from the light and purity 
for which it was made. 

Feeling thus the importance of a religious 
life, let them next be persuaded that its at- 
tainment is entirely in their power. It is 
but to use the faculties which God has given 



27 

them, in the work and with the aid which 
God has appointed. No one will venture to 
say that he is incapable of this. A religious 
life, as we have seen, grows out of the rela- 
tions in which man stands to God and his 
fellow men ; and as he is made accountable 
for the performance of the duties of these 
relations, it is impossible that he is not cre- 
ated capable of performing them. It were 
as reasonable to urge that a child cannot 
love and obey its father and mother, as that 
man cannot love and obey God. 

Yet it so happens, that some profess to be 
deterred from a religious course, by the ap- 
prehension that it is not in their power ; it is 
something which it must be given them to 
do ; a work which must be wrought in them 
by a supernatural energy ; they must wait 
till their time has come. But every apology 
for irreligion founded on reasons like this, is 
evidently deceptive. It proceeds upon wrong 
notions respecting the divine aid imparted 
to man. That this aid is needed and is 
given in the Christian life, is a true and a 
comforting doctrine. But that it is to super- 
sede human exertion, that it is a reason for 
indolence and religious neglect, is a false 
b4 



28 



and pernicious notion, — countenanced, I 
will venture to affirm, by no one whose opin- 
ion or example is honored or followed in 
the Christian church. On the contrary, all 
agree in declaring with the Apostle, that 
while God works in us to will and to do, we 
are to work out our own salvation ; and to 
do it with fear and trembling, because, after 
all, these divine influences will be vain with- 
out our own diligence. 

In some persons notion takes the form 
of a real or fancied humility. They fear 
lest they be found seeking salvation through 
their own works, and relying on their own 
merits. But what a strange humility this, 
which leads to a disregard of the divine will, 
and disobedience to the divine commands ; 
which virtually says, 'I will continue in sin 
that grace may abound ! ' Let me ask, too, 
Who will trust to receive salvation without 
actual obedience ? Where is it promised to 
those, who will do nothing in the way of self- 
government and active virtue ? Where is it 
offered to any, but those who seek it by 
bringing forth fruits meet for repentance, 
and by patient continuance in well-doing ? 



29 

And let none fear lest this make void the 
grace of God. For how is it that grace 
leads to salvation ? By arbitrarily fitting the 
soul for it, and ushering it into heaven with- 
out its own cooperation 1 Or is it not rather 
by opening a free highway to the kingdom 
of life, through which all may walk and be 
saved ? This is what the Saviour has done ; 
he has made the path of life accessible and 
plain, has thrown open the gate of heaven, 
has taught men how to enter in and reach 
their bliss. Whoever pursues this path and 
enters through the gate into the city, is saved 
by grace. For though he has used his own 
powers to travel on this highway, yet he did 
not establish that highway, nor could he 
have traversed it without guidance and aid, 
nor opened for himself the door of entrance. 
Heaven is still a free gift, inasmuch as it is 
granted by infinite benignity to those who 
did not, do not, and cannot deserve it. Yet 
there are certain conditions to be performed. 
And to refuse the performance of those con- 
ditions, on the plea that you thus derogate 
from the mercy of God, and do something 
to purchase or merit happiness, is a mad- 
ness which ought to be strenuously op- 



30 

posed, or it will leave you to perish in your 
sins. 

These two things then may be regarded 
as axioms of the religious life ; first, that a 
man's own labors are essential to his salva- 
tion ; second, that his utmost virtue does 
nothing toward purchasing or meriting sal- 
vation. When he has done all his duty, he is 
still, as the Saviour declares, but an ' unprof- 
itable servant.' He has been more than 
recompensed by the blessings of this present 
life. That the happiness of an eternal state 
may be attained, in addition to these, is a 
provision of pure grace ; and it is mere in- 
sanity to neglect the duties of religion 
through any fear lest you should seem to be 
seeking heaven on the ground of your own 
desert. Virtue would be your duty, though 
you were to perish for ever at the grave ; 
and that God has opened to his children the 
prospect of an inheritance infinitely dis- 
proportioned to their merit, is only a further 
reason for making virtue your first and chief 
pursuit. 

It is true there is great infirmity in human 
nature, and you will find yourself perplexed 
and harassed by temptations from without 



31 

and within. Passion, appetite, pleasure, 
and care solicit and urge you, and render it 
not easy to keep yourself unspotted from 
the world. But what then ? Does this excuse 
the want of exertion ? Is this a good rea- 
son for sitting idly with folded arms, and say- 
ing, It is all vain, I am wretchedly weak, I 
cannot undertake this work, till God gives 
me strength ? Believe me, there is no hu- 
mility in this. Think as humbly of yourself 
and your deserts, as you please ; but to think 
so meanly of the powers God has given you 
as to deem them insufficient for the work he 
has assigned you, is less humility than ingrat- 
itude and want of faith. Nothing is tru- 
er than this, — that your work is propor- 
tioned to your powers, and your trials to 
your strength. i No temptation hath taken 
you but such as is common to man ; but 
God is faithful, who will not suffer you to be 
tempted above that ye are able ; but will, 
with the temptation, also make a way to 
escape, that ye may be able to bear it.' 
Here is the manifestation of peculiar grace ; 
when a sincere and humble spirit, in its 
earnest search for the true way, encounters 
obstacles, hardships, and opposition, at this 



32 

moment it is, that aid from on high is inter- 
posed. The promise to Paul is fulfilled, 
' My strength is made perfect in weak- 
ness. ' ' The spirit helpeth our infirmities.' 
Let it be, then, that human nature is weak ; 
no work is appointed greater than its power, 
and it ' can do all things through Christ 
who strengthened!. ; 

Be thoroughly persuaded, therefore, that 
the work before you is wholly within your 
power. Nothing has a more palsying effect 
on one's exertions in any enterprise, than 
the doubt whether he be equal to it. Some- 
thing like confidence is necessary to enable 
him to pursue it vigorously and persevering- 
ly. It is as necessary in action, as the 
Apostle represents it to be in prayer. ' He 
that wavereth or doubteth is like a wave of 
the sea, driven by the wind and tossed. 5 
But when he has confidence, as the Chris- 
tian may have, that his strength is equal to 
his task, that he cannot fail if he resolutely 
go forward, and that all hindrances must 
disappear before a steady and industrious 
zeal, which leans upon God, and is strong 
in the power of the Lord, — then he presses 
on with alacrity, encounters trials without 



33 

alarm, and is ' steadfast, immovable, always 
abounding in the work of the Lord ; know- 
ing that his labor is not in vain in the 
Lord ; ' for that nothing but his own fault 
can bar him out of heaven, or cause him 
to fail of eternal life. 

And all this is perfectly consistent with 
the deepest humility, and the profoundest 
sense of dependence on God. 



34 



CHAPTER III. 

THE STATE OF MIND IN WHICH THE IN- 
QUIRER SHOULD SUSTAIN HIMSELF. 

All this, I say, is perfectly consistent 
with the deepest humility and most unassum- 
ing dependence upon God. If it were not, 
it would be false and wrong ; for a humble 
and dependent disposition is a prime requis- 
ite in the Christian ; a grace to be espe- 
cially cultivated at the beginning of the reli- 
ious course. It is concerning this state of 
mind that we are now to speak. 

Deep religious impressions are always 
accompanied by a sense of personal unwor- 
thiness, and not unfrequently commence 
with it. It is man's acquaintance with him- 
self, which leads him most earnestly to seek 
the acquaintance of God, and to perceive 
the need of his favor. The sense of sin, 
the feeling that his life has not been right, 
that his heart is not pure, that his thoughts, 
dispositions, appetites, passions, have not 



35 



been duly regulated, that he has lived ac- 
cording to his own will and not that of God, 
that, if taken from his worldly possessions, 
he has no other object of desire and affec- 
tion to which his heart could cling, if called 
to judgment for the use of his powers and 
privileges he must be speechless and hope- 
less ; all this rises solemnly to his mind, and 
sinks him low under a sense of ill desert and 
shame. He sees that he might have been, 
ought to have been, better ; that he might 
have been, ought to have been, obedient to 
God and a follower of all that is good. He 
cannot excuse himself to himself. Every ef- 
fort to palliate his guilt, only shows him its 
aggravation ; and he cries out, with the pen- 
itent prodigal, 'Father, I have sinned against 
heaven, and in thy sight, and am no more 
worthy to be called thy son.' He has offend- 
ed against knowledge and opportunity, and 
in spite of instruction and warning. He 
looks back to the early and innocent days, 
when, if his Saviour had been on earth, he 
might have taken him to his arms, and said, 
' Of such is the kingdom of God. ? But alas, 
how has he been changed ! He has parted 
with that innocence, he has strayed from the 



36 

kingdom of heaven, he has defiled and lost 
the image of his Maker. While he dwells 
on this thought of what he was and what he 
might have become, and contrasts it with 
what he is, he is filled with remorse. He 
exaggerates to himself all his failings, paints 
in blacker colors than even the truth, all his 
iniquities, counts himself the chief of sin- 
ners, and is almost ready to despair of 
mercy. 

When the mind is strongly agitated in this 
way, it is surprising how the characters of 
very different men become, as it were, equal- 
ized. Of many individuals, differing in the 
most various ways as regards the num- 
ber and nature, the magnitude and circum- 
stances of their offences, and most widely 
separated in the actual scale of demerit, each 
at such a season regards himself as the most 
guilty of men. Sometimes the high-wrought 
expressions, in which the victim of remorse 
vents the excruciating anguish of his mind, 
are accounted affectation and hypocrisy. 
But there can be no good reason to doubt 
that they are entirely sincere. The man 
honestly describes himself as he seems to 
himself at the time. He is in his own eyes 



37 

the wretch he draws. And this is very easily 
explained. He sees at one view all his past 
sins, open and secret, his thoughtlessness, 
ingratitude, negligence, and omissions, his 
depraved inclinations, evil desires, and cher- 
ished lusts, which no one else knows, and 
which no one 'else could compare, as he can, 
with his privileges and obligations. All these 
he sets by the side, not of the hidden and 
private life of others, but of their decent 
public demeanor. He compares them too, 
not with the standard of worldly, outward 
morality, but with the strict, searching, holy 
requisitions of the law of God. And in such 
a comparison, at such a moment, he cannot 
but regard himself as most unworthy and 
depraved. 

And we need not be too anxious at once to 
correct this feeling. The abasement is well ; 
for no one can feel guilt too strongly, or ab- 
hor sin too deeply. The time will come, 
when he will learn to follow the direction of 
the Apostle, and ' think of himself soberly, 
as he ought to think.' But at this first fair 
inspection of the deformities of his character, 
it is not to be expected that he should make 
his estimate with perfect sobriety. Only let 



38 

every thing to be done to guide and soothe 
and encourage him, and nothing to exaspe- 
rate his self-condemnation, or drive him to 
insanity or despair. 

But such a state of mind as I have describ- 
ed, though not uncommon, and by many 
cherished as the most desirable and suitable 
at the commencement of the religious life, 
is by no means universal at that period, and 
cannot be regarded as essential. The expe- 
rience of different individuals in this respect 
greatly varies, and is much affected by tem- 
per and disposition, as well as by other cir- 
cumstances. Many of the best Christians 
have never been subjected to those violent 
and torturing emotions, which have shaken 
and convulsed others. Their course has 
been placid and serene, though solemn and 
humble. They have felt their sin, and have 
mourned beneath it, and in deep humiliation 
have sought its forgiveness ; but without 
any thing of terrified emotion or gloomy 
despondency. They have been gently won 
to truth by the mild invitations of parental 
love, without needing the fearful denuncia- 
tions of punishment and wrath to awaken 
them. This difference among individuals 



39 

is owing partly, as I said, to constitutional 
difference of temperament, which renders it 
impossible that the same representations 
should affect all alike ; and partly to the 
different modes in which religion is presented 
to different minds ; having first appeared to 
some in its harsher features, as to the Jews 
on Sinai, and to others in the milder form of 
a Saviour's compassion. But however this 
may be, and however the humiliation of one 
may wear a different complexion from that 
of another, it is a state of mind sincere 
and heartfelt in all, to be studiously cher- 
ished, and to be made a permanent feature 
in the character. 

In the beginning of the Christian life this 
feeling assumes the form of anxiety, as it 
afterward leads to watchfulness. This word 
may, perhaps as well as any, describe the 
state of those for whom I am writing. They 
are anxious about themselves, about their 
characters, their condition, their prospects. 
They are anxious to know what they shall 
do to be saved, and to gain satisfactory as- 
surance that they shall be pardoned and ac- 
cepted of God. This is a most reasonable 
solicitude. What can be more reasonable 



40 

than such a solicitude for the greatest and 
most lasting good of man ? What more be- 
coming a rational creature, whose eternal 
welfare is dependent on his own choice 
between good and evil, than this desire to 
know and pursue the right 'I this earnest 
thoughtfulness respecting his condition ? and 
this inquiry for the true end of his being ? 
If a person, hitherto thoughtless, is in this 
state of mind, he is to be congratulated upon 
it. We are to be thankful to God in his 
behalf, that another immortal soul is awake 
to its responsibility, and seeking real happi- 
ness. We would urge him to cherish the 
feelings which possess him ; not with mel- 
ancholy despondency ; not with superstitious 
gloom ; not with unmanly and unmeaning 
debasement ; but with thoughtful, self-dis- 
trusting concern, with deliberate study for 
the path of duty, and a resolute purpose not 
to swerve from it. 

Remember that much depends, I might 
say, every thing depends, on the use you 
make of this your present disposition. Be 
faithful to it, obey its promptings, let it form 
in you the habit of devout reflection and 
religious action, and all must be well. The 



4L 



issue will be the Christian character, and 
the soul's salvation. But, refuse to cherish 
this disposition, drive it from you, smother 
and silence it, and you will probably do 
yourself an everlasting injury. It is like 
putting out a fire which has just been light- 
ed, and which may with difficulty be kindled 
again. It is trifling with the sensibility of 
conscience, it is bringing hardness upon 
your heart ; and there is less prospect that 
you will afterward arrive at an habitual and 
controlling regard for your religious inter- 
ests. This it is to ' quench the spirit.' 

Be sensible, therefore, that this is a criti- 
cal moment in the history of your character, 
that it is in many respects the decisive point, 
at which your destiny is to be determined. 
For now it is, in all probability, that the 
bias of your mind is to be determined for 
good or evil. Be sensible then how neces- 
sary it is that you keep alive, and cultivate 
by all possible means, this tenderness of 
heart. Avoid every pursuit, engagement, 
and company which you find to be incon- 
sistent with it, or unfavorable to it, or tend- 
ing to destroy it. Scenes at other times in- 
nocent, should now be shunned, if they op- 
c2 



42 



erate to turn the current of your affections ; 
for you are engaging in a great work, the 
giving your heart a permanent bias to- 
ward God, and it ought not to be inter- 
rupted. While this is doing, you can well 
afford to withdraw from many scenes you 
might otherwise frequent, and indeed you 
can ill afford the risk of exposing yourself 
to their influence. 

It may be well to observe another caution. 
Say nothing of your thoughts and feelings 
to any, but one or two confidential friends. 
Many a religious character has been spoiled 
in the forming by too much talk with too 
many persons. The best religious charac- 
ter is formed in retirement, by much silent 
reflection, and private reading and prayer. 
What the soul needs above all things, is to 
commune with itself and with God ; then it 
is established, strengthened, settled. But if 
a man go out from his closet, and seek for 
instruction and guidance by talking with all 
who will talk with him, he fritters away his 
feelings ; his frame becomes less deeply and 
essentially spiritual ; words take the place 
of sentiment ; and he is very likely to be- 
come a talkative, fluent, superficial religion- 



43 

ist, with much show of sound doctrine, and 
a goodly readiness of sound speech, but 
without substantial principle. Shun, there- 
fore, rather than seek, much communica- 
tion with many persons. But some counsel 
and encouragement you may need. Apply 
therefore to your minister. He is your le- 
gitimate and true counsellor, and he will 
be glad, in friendly and confidential inter- 
course, to lead you on. You may have also 
some pious friend to whom possibly you may 
unbosom yourself more freely, than you have 
courage to do to your minister, and he may, 
in some particulars, give you aid, which the 
situation of the pastor may put it out of his 
power to afford. In this manner, feel your 
way along quietly, silently, steadily. Let 
the growth within you be like that of the 
grain of wheat, which germinates in secret, 
and springs up without observation, and at- 
tracts little notice of men, till it shows 
the ear and the full corn in the ear. Be anx- 
ious to establish yourself firmly in the power 
of godliness, before you exhibit its form. 

In connexion with this, it may be well to 
add a caution on a kindred point. Do not 
spend too much time in public meetings, 
c3 



44 



You will of course be desirous to hear the 
preaching of the gospel. You feel as if 
you could not hear it too often or too much. 
You wonder that preaching should never 
before have seemed so interesting. You lis- 
ten with new ears ; and prayers, hymns, 
and sermons fall upon your spirit as if 
you had been gifted with a new sense. 
It is well that it is so. By all means cher- 
ish this ardent interest in public worship. 
But do not indulge it to excess. Let your 
moderation be seen in giving to this its pro- 
per place and importance in your time and 
regard. It is not the only religious enjoy- 
ment or means of improvement in your 
power ; and it may possibly be mere self-in- 
dulgence which carries one from meeting to 
meeting. Remember that no duty towards 
others is to be neglected in the search for 
personal improvement ; this would be sin. 
And it is at times a higher duty to attend to 
your family, to be with your friends, to in- 
struct your children, to consult the feelings 
and yield to the prejudices of a husband or 
wife, a parent, brother, or sister, than it is to 
pursue your own single advantage, it may be 
your own gratification, by going out to social 



45 

worship. And if it be your object to please 
God or discipline your own spirit, you will 
better effect that object by this exercise of 
self-denial, than by doing what would give 
uneasiness to others, and perhaps even 
alienate them from you, and render them 
hostile to religion itself. The advice of the 
Apostle to wives is in force on this point, 
and is equally applicable to the other social 
relations : ' Ye wives, be in subjection to 
your own husbands ; that if any obey not 
the word, they may, without the word, be 
won by the conversation of the wives ; 
while they behold your chaste conversation 
coupled with fear.' 

Be warned therefore against this error. 
And what are you to lose by the course which 
I recommend ? Believe me, however much 
may be gained by the sympathy and excite- 
ment of a public assembly, quite as much is 
gained by the sacrifice of your inclinations 
to duty and to the feelings of others, and by 
the silent unwitnessed exercises of retire- 
ment, which no one can forbid you. Look 
not at the present moment, but at the end. 
Your desire is to form a genuine, solid, thor- 
ough, permanent character of devotion. 
c4 



46 

Well ; try to form it wholly in the excitement 
and beneath the external influence of public 
meetings, and it will be such a character as 
can exist only in such scenes. Your piety 
will always need the presence and voice of 
men to keep it alive, and, unsustained by 
them, will sink away and die. This at least 
is the danger to be apprehended ; and expe- 
rience declares that it is no slight one. But 
form your character in private, build it up 
by the action of your own mind, under the 
direction of the Bible and by intercourse 
with the Father of spirits, — and then it will 
always be independent of other men and of 
outward circumstances. It will be self-sus- 
tained on a foundation which man and earth 
cannot shake, alike powerful in the solitude 
and in the crowd, and immovable in stead- 
fastness, though all other men prove false, 
and faith have fled all other bosoms. It is 
such a piety that belongs to the Christian ; 
it is such that you are to seek ; and you 
may well be apprehensive of failure, if you 
neglect this salutary caution. 



47 



CHAPTER IV. 

THE MEANS OF RELIGIOUS IMPROVEMENT. 

The means to be used in order to render 
permanent your religious impressions, and 
promote the growth of your character, are 
now to be considered. They may be arang- 
ed under the following heads : — Reading, 
Meditation, Prayer, Hearing the word 
preached, and the Lord's Supper. 

I. Reading. 

I begin with the more private means ; 
and I speak of reading first, because it is in 
the perusal of the Scriptures that the begin- 
ning of religious knowledge is to be found. 
It is they which testify of Christ, and have 
the words of eternal life. It is they which 
make wise unto salvation. And it is through 
a devout acquaintance with them, that the 
mind and heart grow in the knowledge and 
love of God, and that the dispositions are 
formed which prepare for heaven. Every 
one may read the Bible, and, such is its 
plainness and simplicity in all matters per- 



48 

taining to life and godliness, that if he be 
able to read nothing else, he may yet learn 
all that is essential to duty and acceptance. 
Hence it has happened, that many, to whom 
circumstances have interdicted all general 
acquaintance with books, have gathered, 
from their solitary study of the Bible alone, 
a wisdom which has expanded and eleva- 
ted their minds, and a peace which has 
raised them above the darkness and trials of 
an unhappy worldly lot. 

There are those whose condition in life is 
such, that they have very little time or means 
to devote to books, and it were vain to rec- 
ommend to them that they should seek in- 
struction beyond the sacred pages, and the 
simplest elementary works of devotion. 
While therefore it is the undoubted duty of 
every one to make the utmost possible pro- 
gress in religious knowledge, no one is to 
be condemned for that omission of study and 
ignorance of books which are rendered una- 
voidable by circumstances. We must make 
a distinction, it has been truly said, between 
that which is the duty of all, and may be 
done by all, that is, a careful and devout 
perusal of the Scriptures, and that which is 



49 

the duty, because within the ability, only of 
a more limited number, — the study of other 
sources of knowledge and virtue. These 
every one must pursue in proportion to his 
leisure and means. 

The class of those who have the leisure 
and means is large and numerous ; it is to 
be wished that they were more alive to their 
obligation to improve themselves according- 
ly. I know not how it happens, that serious 
and devout persons are so content to be ig- 
norant on those great topics which they tru- 
ly feel to transcend all others in importance. 
It certainly deserves their consideration, 
whether this indifference be either credita- 
ble or right. Capacity and opportunity form 
the measure of duty ; and if they have re- 
ceived the power and means of cultivating 
their minds and adding to their treasures of 
truth and thought, they should regard it as 
an intimation that this is required of them. 
They should not esteem it enough to be sin- 
cere and conscientious ; they should desire 
to be well-informed ; well-informed respect- 
ing the interpretation of the more difficult 
and curious portions of holy writ, respecting 
the history and transmission of the records 



50 

of their faith, the fortunes of the church in 
successive ages, the effects of their relig- 
ion and of other religions on the world, the 
past and present state of religious opinions, 
the past and present operations of Christian 
benevolence, the means of doing good, and 
the lives, labors, and speculations of the 
eminent professors of their faith. Now all 
this is to be known only through books ; 
and in order to attain it, a judicious selec- 
tion of books, and an appropriation of certain 
seasons for reading, are primarily requisite. 
The bare importance and interest of these 
subjects ought to be a sufficient inducement 
to the adoption of this course. 

There are many other considerations 
which render it worthy of attention. The 
preaching of divine truth becomes far more 
profitable to those who have prepared them- 
selves for it by a previous acquaintance with 
books and subjects. Words are used in the 
pulpit, modes of speech occur, allusions are 
made, and facts and reasonings referred to, 
which presuppose an acquaintance with cer- 
tain subjects, and which are entirely lost to 
those who never read. The better a hearer is 
furnished with preliminary knowledge, the 



51 

greater pleasure will he derive from the 
pulpit ; because the better will he under- 
stand and appreciate the sentiments express- 
ed. At present, such is the uninformed 
character of a large portion of ordinary con- 
gregations, that a minister is compelled to 
pass by many modes of illustration, and 
many representations of truth and duty, be- 
cause they would be to a great majority 
unintelligible and therefore unprofitable. 
Instead of going on to perfection in the pro- 
clamation of higher and wider views, he is 
compelled, as the Apostle complained in a 
similar case, to confine himself ' to the first 
principles of the oracles of God.'* Some 
teachers, unwilling or unable thus to adapt 
themselves to the actual stature of their 
hearers' minds, pursue their own modes of 
thought and expression, without regard to 
their audience ; and while they gratify a few 
reading and thinking men, leave the mass 
of the people uninstructed and unaffected. 
Herein is a sad error. But if the preacher 
must adapt himself to the hearers, the hear- 
ers ought to prepare themselves for the 
preaching. This is to be done by greater 

* Heb. v. 12. 



52 

familiarity with religious books. They would 
then be ready for higher and more extensive 
themes, and for a wider scope of illustration, 
while the preacher would cease to feel him- 
self fettered. As it is, warmed and filled as 
his mind must often be by large contempla- 
tion and exalted study, he sometimes un- 
consciously speaks that which is an un- 
known tongue to the unlettered man, though 
delightful and wholesome to him whose habits 
of reading have prepared him to receive it. 

Further still. It might do for mere men 
of the world, who professedly seek only 
worldly good, and hold of little worth the 
goods of the mind, — it might do for them to 
neglect books and thinking, and spend all 
their precious leisure in idle recreations. 
They are living for the body. But it is the 
distinction of the Christian, that he lives for 
the soul, for his intellectual and moral nature, 
for that part of him which is noblest now, and 
which alone shall live for ever. He has passed 
out of the animal, into the spiritual, life. It 
is not for him to omit or neglect any suitable 
means of intellectual or moral cultivation. 
He is guilty of criminal inconsistency, he 
is a traitor to his own mind, if he refuse to 



53 



nourish it, systematically, with knowledge 
and truth. To keep it inactive and igno- 
rant, is to keep it degraded. Jesus lived 
and died for it, that it might attain the truth, 
and that the truth might make it free. But 
what is the freedom of the mind bound in 
the fetters of ignorance ? Freedom and el- 
evation can come to it only through knowl- 
edge, and one chief fountain of knowledge 
is books. These inform and excite it, and 
furnish food for thought. Thought is exer- 
cise ; it is to the mind, what motion is to the 
body. Without it, there is neither health nor 
strength. And when God has graciously 
ordered that your lot should be cast amid the 
abundance of books, where you need only 
put forth your hand and be supplied ; when 
he thus makes easy to you that intellectual 
and moral attainment which is the soul's 
dignity and happiness ; I see not how you 
can answer it to your conscience, if you do 
not sacredly devote to this object a certain 
portion of your leisure. 

In regard to the quantity of time to be 
thus employed, no uniform rule can be giv- 
en. Men vary so much in occupation, op- 
portunity, and leisure, that while one may 



54 



easily command hours, another can with 
difficulty secure minutes. On this point 
every one must be left to the decision of his 
own conscience. Inquire of that impartial- 
ly and seriously, and then determine how 
large a portion of time you can daily give to 
this great object. I believe it may be laid 
down as certain, that most persons may 
afford to it a great deal more than they im- 
agine. Some make no effort to do any 
thing, because they can effect so little that 
they account it not worth the effort. But they 
should remember, that duty does not con- 
sist in doing great things, but in doing what 
we can ; and that, if they would redeem from 
the hurry of business and the relaxation of 
sleep one quarter of an hour a day, it would 
be a more praiseworthy offering than the 
many hours which are given by others. Even 
five minutes a day would be worth some- 
thing, would be invaluable to one who was 
earnestly bent on using it. It would amount 
in a year to about thirty hours ; and who will 
say that it is not better to improve the mind 
for thirty hours, than not at all ? But I am 
persuaded that there is scarcely any one, 
however engrossed in necessary cares, who 



55 

may not find much more time than this — 
who may not find an hour a day. By great- 
er care of the minutes which he wastes, by 
abridging a little from his meals, a little 
from his pleasures, and a little from his 
sleep, it would be easily accomplished. If 
one be in earnest, as he should be, if he seek 
for wisdom as for gold and for understand- 
ing as for hid treasure, it will be no impossi- 
ble thing to find the requisite time. Few 
men but could readily gain an hour a day, 
if they were to gain by it a dollar a day. In- 
deed, it is often seen, in actual life, that 
a person, to whom religion has become an ob- 
ject of deep concern, contrives to devote to 
his books more time than this, though before 
he would have thought it impossible. No- 
thing is wanting but the ' willing mind.' If 
one feel the necessity, every thing else will 
give way. Rather than remain ignorant and 
without progress in the truth, he will cheer- 
fully watch an hour later at night, and rise 
an hour earlier in the morning. The gain 
to the mind will more than balance the in- 
convenience to the body. 

You may regard it, then, as some proof of 
the sincerity and earnestness of your desire 



56 



for improvement, if you find yourself able to 
appropriate a certain portion of time to prof- 
itable reading. It is important that you se- 
lect for this purpose those hours which shall 
be least liable to interruption, and that you 
allow nothing to infringe upon them. Keep 
this as holy time. Be punctual and faithful 
to it, as the banker to his hours of business. 
There are seasons in every one's vocation, 
at which his business is less pressing than at 
others ; and there are also seasons of leisure, 
which he feels at liberty to take for recrea- 
tion and amusement. As you will have 
lost all taste for frivolous amusement and 
unprofitable pleasures, you will be able to 
devote all such seasons to the improvement 
of your mind ; and instead of the theatre 
and the ball-room, from which you would 
have returned fatigued in body and distract- 
ed in mind, and to some extent unfitted for 
duty, you will enjoy the converse of the great 
minds which have blessed the world ; and 
after filling your soul with their thoughts, will 
go back to your ordinary duty with a spirit 
refreshed and invigorated, and a body unwea- 
ried. During the season of long evenings, 
especially, when so many are hurrying from 



57 



diversion to diversion, as if this long leisure 
were provided them only that they may con- 
trive how ingeniously they can throw it away, 
— you will perceive that you have a most fa- 
vorable opportunity for pursuing extensive 
researches, and making large acquisitions 
of knowledge. Evening after evening, in 
your own quiet retirement, you will sit 
down to this instructive application. By 
this diligence, what progress may you 
make ; what volumes may you master ; 
to what extent may you penetrate the 
secrets of science, acquire a knowledge of 
history and of letters, and become enriched 
with those great and various treasures of in- 
tellect, which are subservient to the growth 
of the mind and the glory of God. You will 
thus be using time for the purpose for which 
it was given, — the ripening and perfecting 
of your immortal mind ; and at all inter- 
vals of release from duty to others, will 
make it your happiness to be thus perform- 
ing a great duty to yourself. 

In your selection of books, the Bible will, 
of course, hold the first place. This is to 
be read daily, and to be your favorite book. 
Remember, however, that it may be perus- 



58 

ed in such a manner, that it were better 
never to have opened it. If studied inatten- 
tively, for form's sake, or only for the pur- 
pose of gathering arguments to support your 
opinions, it is read irreligiously, and there- 
fore unprofitably. You must habitually re- 
gard it as uttering instructions with a voice 
of authority, of which you are earnestly to 
seek the true meaning, and then submis- 
sively to obey them. You must never forget 
that your hopes of right instruction are sus- 
pended on the simplicity and fidelity with 
which you receive those holy words ; and as 
they were written expressly to make you 
wise unto salvation, no inferior purpose 
must distract your attention from this. 

You will therefore always have in view 
two objects : to understand the book, and 
to apply it to your own heart and character. 

The study of the Bible, for the purpose of 
understanding it, is an arduous labor. Dr. 
Johnson said of the New Testament, " It is 
the most difficult book in the world, for 
which the labor of a life is required." No 
book requires greater and more various aid. 
Its thorough interpretation is a science by 
itself; and you must ask of those, in whose 



59 

judgment you confide, to point out the requi- 
site helps for this interesting investigation ; 
to enable you to reach the pure text, and 
arrive at the meaning of every passage as it 
lay in the mind of the writer. Recollect 
that a passage standing by itself may bear a 
very good meaning, which yet was not the 
meaning designed ; and make it a sacred 
rule, not to receive or quote it in any other 
sense than that which belongs to it in its 
original place. The neglect of this rule has 
occasioned much misinterpretation and mis- 
application of scripture ; and some passages 
have come to be familiarly understood and 
cited in senses altogether foreign from their 
proper import. This is a perversion ; and 
it is an immense evil to have wrong ideas 
thus fastened upon the language of the 
sacred writers. 

And be not afraid of examining the text 
scrupulously, and employing the utmost en- 
ergy of your mind in discovering and deter- 
mining its true sense. It is a duty to do 
this. You can decide between opposing 
and possible interpretations only by apply- 
ing your own mind to judge between them ; 
and the more keenly, impartially, and fear- 
d2 



60 

lessly you proceed, the greater the probabil- 
ity that your decision will be correct. On 
this point some persons greatly err. They 
seize on the first meaning which presents 
itself to their minds, or has been presented 
by another, and resolutely abide by it ; they 
refuse to investigate further, lest they should 
be guilty of irreverently trying the divine 
word by their own fallible reason. Indulge 
no such weakness as this. Never indeed 
be guilty for a moment of the insane folly 
and sin of disputing the authority of revela- 
tion, or setting up your reason as a superior 
light and safer guide. But in deciding upon 
the meaning of scripture, you cannot use 
your intellectual powers too much or too 
acutely. Use them constantly, coolly, im- 
partially, with the best aid you can obtain 
from human authors, and then you may rest 
satisfied that you have done your duty, — 
have done all which you could do toward 
learning the truth ; and if you have accom- 
panied it with prayer for a blessing from the 
Source of truth and wisdom, you cannot 
have failed, in any essential point, to as- 
certain the will of God. 



61 

But there is another object, — the appli- 
cation of scripture to the forming of the 
heart and character. This is a higher ob- 
ject than the other, and may be effected in 
cases where very little of rigid scrutiny can 
be made into the dark places of the divine 
word. Blessed be God, it is not necessary in 
order to salvation, that one should compre- 
hend all the things hard to be understood, 
or be able to follow out the train of reasoning 
in every Epistle, and restore the text in every 
corruption. Do all this as much as you can. 
But when you read, as it were, for your 
life ; when you take the Bible to your closet, 
to be the help and the solitary witness of 
your prayers ; when you take it up as a 
lamp which you are to hold to your heart 
for the purpose of searching into its true 
state, that you may purify and perfect it ; — 
then, put from your mind all thoughts of dif- 
fering interpretations and various readings, 
and the perplexities of criticism and trans- 
lation. You have only to do with what is 
spiritual and practical. You are no more a 
scholar, seeking for intellectual guidance, 
but a sinful and accountable creature asking 
for help in duty and deliverance from an 
b3 



62 

evil world and an evil heart. Read, there- 
fore, as if on your knees. Make your heart 
feel and respond to every sentiment. Apply 
to yourself with rigor every precept and 
warning ; and according to the character of 
the passage, let your mind glow with fervor 
and be uplifted in holy adoration and de- 
vout gratitude, or be thrilled and humbled 
by the representations of infinite purity and 
justice, or melted and borne away by the 
tones of tender love and long-suffering 
grace. Suffer yourself to read nothing 
coldly, when you read for spiritual improve- 
ment. You might as lawfully pray coldly. 
Therefore let your reading be like your 
prayers, — done with all your heart. And 
be sensible that it is better to go over one 
short passage many times, till you fully 
grasp its sentiment and grow warm with it, 
than to run over hastily and unfeelingly 
many chapters. 

You are not to suppose, from what has 
been said, that you are altogether to sepa- 
rate these two modes of reading the Scrip- 
tures. On the contrary, it will greatly 
aid you in unravelling their true meaning, 
to carry to their interpretation a devout 



63 

mind, wakeful to the impression of their 
moral beauty, and in sympathy with their 
divine origin ; since nothing is truer than 
this, — that a study is rendered easy by 
the interest of the affections in it, and 
that difficulties disappear before the excite- 
ment of feeling. And on the other hand, 
when you are reading expressly for improve- 
ment and devotion, you will recur, without 
effort, and consequently without interrup- 
tion, to the results of your cooler inquiry, 
and spontaneously make use of the interpre- 
tations which your critical scrutiny has 
proved to be just. 

The cautions thus briefly sketched are 
important for two reasons ; one, that there 
is a tendency in him who has become inter- 
ested in the critical examination of the 
sacred writings, to continue to read them 
critically and with a principal regard to their 
elucidation, when he ought to be imbibing 
their spirit ; and the other, that the percep- 
tion, of this tendency has been an apology 
to many for not engaging in such inquiries 
at all. They esteem it better to go on with 
their crude, unconnected, and undigested 
knowledge, which in many cases is only 
d4 



64 

ignorance (for where they have not inquired 
it is impossible they should know), than to 
check the fervor of their religious feelings, 
as they fancy must inevitably be done, by 
accurate study. But this is a melancholy 
error. It reminds one of the old pretence, 
that ignorance is the mother of devotion. 
How can it be rationally supposed, that a 
careful inquiry concerning the history, the 
text, and the signification of the Bible, 
should necessarily alienate the mind from 
the true spirit of the Bible ? I say necessa- 
rily, because the tendency alluded to 
undoubtedly exists ; and, however it may 
be accounted for, it evidently needs to 
be cautiously guarded against. This may 
be done. Do it then, as you value the 
warmth and fervor of your soul. Do it, al- 
ways and perseveringly, by daily reading 
in that frame of spiritual self-application 
which I have recommended. Thus you 
will avoid the danger ; and while you arrive 
at enlarged views of the nature, contents, 
history, and purposes of these sacred records, 
you will retain and increase the susceptibil- 
ity of your heart to all their representations 
of duty and heaven. 



65 



In regard to the choice of other books, it 
would take up too much room to enter into 
all the many considerations which might be 
started. Let it be sufficient to say in gen- 
eral, that if you would form a religious char- 
acter, you are always to have in view the 
two objects already named, — religious 
knowledge and moral improvement. Your 
books therefore will belong to one or the 
other of these two departments ; and it 
would be well to have one of each kind 
always lying by you in the course of being 
read. That is, be at all times engaged with 
two books ; one of a moral and devotional 
character, to keep your frame of mind right, 
and your feelings in harmony with eternal 
truth ; the other, of an instructive charac- 
ter, to enlarge your knowledge, and extend 
your ideas concerning God, and man, and 
truth. Then you will never be at a loss for 
occupation. You will not fritter away pre- 
cious hours in ' wondering what you had 
better do.' 

To the better accomplishment of this pur- 
pose, it will be well to obtain of your minis- 
ter, or some competent friend, a list of se- 
lected books, in the order in which they 



66 

should be read. I earnestly recommend 
this. Many persons read at random, with- 
out selection, whatever they may accident- 
ally meet with. They make no inquiry 
whether a book be good or bad, worth peru- 
sal or not ; but because it lies in their way, 
or has been read by some friend, they read 
it. How many miserable volumes of trash 
are thus devoured ! and that too by persons, 
who would be alarmed at the suspicion that 
they are prodigally throwing away their 
time. But they do not pursue the same ran- 
dom course in other matters. They do not 
choose their food or clothing of the first 
thing which accidentally presents itself. 
They take pains, they spend time, they 
inquire, compare, judge, and select only 
what they deliberately perceive to be best. 
And when we treat the body thus, shall we 
have no care for the mind 1 Shall we 
leave it to be fed by any food which chance 
may bring it, and thus expose it to the risk 
of pernicious nourishment, to the hazard of 
being made feeble, sickly, and corrupt ? I 
adjure you, fall not into this too common 
thoughtlessness. Do not take it for granted, 
that, because it is a printed book, therefore 



67 



it must be worth reading. Get advice upon 
the subject, and read systematically ; re- 
flecting, that your object is not amusement, 
but improvement, — improvement of your 
religious nature ; and that you have no 
more right to run the hazard of poisoning it 
throucrh a negligent selection of its nutriment, 
than to destroy your body by similar means. 
The religious culture of your mind is a most 
responsible charge ; it is to be effected, in 
no small degree, by the exercise and guid- 
ance it shall receive from books ; and how 
will you lift up your head, when the Judge 
shall inquire concerning your manner of 
preparing it for his kingdom, if you have 
provided for its immortal appetite nothing 
but unarranged and unselected trash, when 
stores of the choicest kind were profusely 
spread before you ? 

It does not fall within my plan to pursue 
this subject further, or to treat the many 
questions which may arise on the choice of 
books, and habits of reading, in general. It 
may be said in few words, that no work of 
truth and science, or of elegance and taste, 
which does not tend to corrupt the morals or 
create a disrelish for serious thought, need 



68 



be prohibited to a religious man. Within 
the limits of this restriction he may freely 
range. Let him only remember, that even 
the employment of reading may become 
mere idleness and wastefulness ; and that a 
man may decide respecting his actual prin- 
ciples and character by the character of the 
books to which he is most attached. He must 
therefore watch and guard his taste. Then 
he may find it in his power to cause every 
hour thus spent to minister to the growth of 
his best attainments. 

II. Meditation. 

This is a great and essential means of im- 
provement. It is essential to self-examination 
and self-knowledge, without which the hope 
of progress and of virtue is vain. No one can 
know his own character, or be aware of the 
dispositions, feelings, and motives by which 
he is actuated, except by means of deep and 
searching reflection. In the crowd of busi- 
ness and the hurry of the world, we are apt 
to rush on without weighing, as we should, 
the considerations which urge us ; we are 
liable to neglect that close inspection of our- 
selves and that careful reference of our con- 
duct to the unerring standard of right, which 



69 

are requisite both to our knowing where we 
are, and to our keeping in the right way. 
It is necessary that we sometimes pause and 
look around us, and consider our ways ; 
that we take observation of the course we 
are running and the various influences to 
which we are subjected, and be sure that 
we are not driven or drifted from the direc- 
tion in which we ought to be proceeding. 
Without this there is no safety. 

Meditation, too, is necessary in order to 
the digesting of religious truth, making 
familiar what we have learned, and incor- 
porating it with our own minds. We can- 
not even retain it in our memories, much 
less can we be fully sensible of its power 
and worth, except through the habit of re- 
flecting upon it. We cannot have it ready 
at command, so as to defend it when as- 
sailed, or state it when inquired after, or 
apply it in the emergencies of life, unless it 
be familiar to us by habitual meditation. 
So that even reading loses its value if 
unaccompanied by reflection. The obliga- 
tions and motives of duty, the promises, 
hopes, and prospects of the Christian, the 
great interests and permanent realities by 



70 

which he is to be actuated, are not visibly 
and tangibly present to him, like the scenes 
of his^ passing life ; and they must be made 
spiritually present to his apprehension and 
thoughts, by deliberate meditation, if he 
would be guided and swayed by them. In- 
deed without this, he must be without con- 
sideration or devotion ; ignorant of the ac- 
tual state of his character, and in constant 
danger of falling a sacrifice to the unfriend- 
ly influences of the world. 

In attempting, therefore, the acquisition 
of a religious character, it is important that 
you maintain an habitual thoughtfulness of 
mind. It has been said, and with perfect 
truth, that no man pursues any great inter- 
est of any kind, in which important conse- 
quences are at stake, without a profound 
and settled seriousness of mind ; and that a 
man of really frivolous disposition never ac- 
complishes any thing valuable. How espe- 
cially true must this be, in regard to the 
great interests of religion and eternity ! 
How can you hope to make progress in that 
perplexing and difficult work, the establish- 
ment of a religious character, the attain- 
ment of the great Christian accomplish- 



71 

ments, without a fixed and habitual thought- 
fulness ? — a thoughtfulness, which never for- 
gets the vastness and responsibility of the 
work assigned to man, nor loses the con- 
sciousness of a relation to more glorious 
beings than are found upon the earth. This 
will be a habit, something more than an 
occasional musing and reverie, at set times, 
when he shall force himself to the task, as 
the Catholic goes to confession. It will be 
the uniform condition of his mind ; as much 
so, as solicitude to the merchant, who has 
great treasures exposed to the uncertainties 
of the ocean and the foe ; — a solicitude, not 
gloomy, or unsocial, or morose, but thought- 
ful ; so that nothing shall be done inconsid- 
erately, or without adverting to the bearing 
it may have on his character and final pros- 
pects. 

Then, besides this general state of mind, 
there must be, as I have said, allotted peri- 
ods of express meditation. As the precept 
respecting devotion is, i Pray without ceas- 
ing,' and yet set times of prayer are neces- 
sary ; so also, while we say, ' Be always 
thoughtful,' we must add, that particular sea- 
sons are necessary on purpose for meditation, 



72 

You must set apart certain times for reflec- 
tion, when you shall deliberately sit down 
and survey with keen scrutiny yourself, 
your condition, your past life, and the pros- 
pect before you ; inquire into the state of 
your religious knowledge and personal 
attainments ; and strengthen your sense of 
responsibility and purposes of duty, by 
dwelling on the attributes and government 
of God, the ways of his providence, the rev- 
elations of his word, the requisitions of his 
will, the glory of his kingdom, and all the 
affecting truths and promises which the gos- 
pel displays. These are to be subjects of 
distinct and profound consideration, till your 
mind becomes imbued with them, and until 
filled and inspired by the spiritual contem- 
plation, you are in a manner ' changed into 
the same image as by the spirit of the Lord/ 
The proper season for this, is the season of 
your daily devotion ; when, having shut out 
the world, and sought the nearer presence 
of God, your mind is prepared to work fer- 
vently. Then, contemplation, aided by 
prayer, ascends to heights which it could 
never reach alone ; and sometimes, whether 
in the body or out of the body it can hardly 



73 

tell, soars, as it were, to the third heaven, 
and enjoys a revelation to which, at other 
hours, it is a stranger. 

This however is an excitement of mind 
which is rarely to be expected. Those sea- 
sons are ' few as angel's visits,' which lift the 
spirit to any thing like ecstasy. They are 
glimpses of heaven, which the soul, in its 
present tabernacle, can seldom catch, only 
frequently enough to afford a brief foretaste 
of that bliss to which it shall hereafter 
arrive. Its ordinary musings are less ethe- 
rial ; happy, undoubtedly, though oftentimes 
clouded by feelings of sadness and doubt, 
and by a sense of unworthiness and sin. 
But however mixed they may be, they are 
always salutary. If sad and disheartening, 
they lead to more vigilant self-examination, 
that we may discover their cause, and thus 
rekindle the watchlight that is so essential 
to right progress. If serene and joyous, 
they are a present earnest of the peace 
which is assured to the righteous, and the 
joy of heart which is one of the genuine 
fruits of the spirit. Be not, therefore, 
troubled or cast down (indeed never be cast 
down, so long as you can say to your soul, 

E 



74 

Trust in God), be not, I say, disquieted or 
cast down, because of the inequalities of 
feeling with which you enter and leave your 
closet, and the changes from brightness to 
gloom, from clearness to obscurity, which 
often pass over your mind. This, alas, is 
the inheritance of our frail nature. An 
equal vigor of thought, clearness of appre- 
hension, force of imagination, fervor of de- 
votion, always perceiving, feeling, adoring, 
with the same vividness and satisfaction, 
are to be our portion in the world of spirits. 
Here we see all things, ' as in a glass, 
darkly < ; there we shall see i face to face.' 
Here, the truths we rejoice in are too often 
like the images of absent friends, which we 
strive in vain to bring brightly before the eye 
of our minds ; they are shadowy, indistinct, 
and fleeting. But there, they will be like our 
friends themselves, always present in their 
own full form and beauty, to dwell in the 
mind unfadingly and constitute its bliss. 
Be satisfied then if you sometimes arrive in 
your meditations at that glow of elevated 
enjoyment which you desire. What you 
are rather to seek for, is, a calm and com- 
posed state of the affections, an equanimity 



75 

of spirit, a serenity of temper ; — like the 
quiet which an affectionate child experien- 
ces in the circle of its parents and brothers, 
where it is not excited to ecstasy by the 
thought of its father's goodness, but lives 
beneath it in a state of equal and affection- 
ate trust. Like this should be the habitual 
experience of the Christian ; and if it be 
thus with you, let not occasional dulness or 
darkness, coming over your spirit in its re- 
ligious hours, dishearten or distress you. 

This I say, because many persons of tru- 
ly devout habits have unquestionably suf- 
fered much from this cause. In the natural 
fluctuations of the animal spirits, or the 
nervous system, or the bodily health, they 
sometimes find themselves cold at heart, 
and seemingly insensible to religious con- 
siderations. It seems to them that their 
hearts have waxed gross, that their eyes are 
closed, and their ears become dull of hear- 
ing. In vain do they read and think ; they 
cannot arouse themselves to any thing like 
a ' realizing sense ' of these great objects ; 
but regard with a stupid unconcern what at 
other times has been the source of their 
chief enjoyment. But let the humble and 



76 

timid believer be of good cheer. This is 
not always a sign of guilt, or of desertion 
by God. It may be traced to the original 
and unavoidable imperfection of human na- 
ture ; it is to be lamented as such, but not 
to be repented of as sin ; and one may not 
expect to be relieved from it, till the soul 
is freed from the body. Let him watch the 
course of his mind, and he will find the 
same inequality of feeling to exist upon 
other subjects. He does not at all times 
take an equal interest in his ordinary con- 
cerns, nor does he at all times feel the high- 
est warmth of affection toward his parent, 
friend, or child. Let him watch others, and 
he will discover the same variations in them. 
They will confess it to be so. The oldest 
and most established Christians will de- 
scribe themselves to have passed their whole 
pilgrimage in this state of fluctuation. Read 
the private journals of distinguished believ- 
ers, and you find in them frequent com- 
plaints of lukewarmness, indifference, and 
deadness of heart. They mourn over it, they 
bewail it, they strive against it, and yet it 
adheres to them as long as they live. It is 
not, therefore, your peculiar sin, but a com- 



77 

mon infirmity. Regard it in this light ; and 
do not let it destroy your peace of mind, or 
lead you to overlook the rational evidence 
that your heart is right with God. 

But also, on the other hand, — for the 
Christian's path is hedged in with dangers 
on every side, and in trying to escape from 
one it is easy to rush into another, — take 
heed that you do not unwarrantably apply 
this consolation to yourself, and make this 
excuse in cases in which you really deserve 
blame. Do not let this apology, which is 
designed only for the comfort of the hum- 
ble and watchful, be used by you as a cover 
for negligence and sinful self-confidence. 
Remember that your unsatisfactory state of 
religious sensibility may be possibly your 
own fault ; and you are not to presume that 
it is otherwise, until you have faithfully 
searched and tried. Have you not, for a 
time, been unreasonably devoted to amuse- 
ment, or engrossed by unnecessary cares, 
so as to have neglected the watching of your 
heart ? Have you not for a season been 
thoughtless, light-minded, frivolous, and 
careless of that devout reference to God, by 
which you should always be actuated ? Have 
e2 



78 

you not engaged in some questionable un- 
dertaking, or allowed yourself in sloth or 
self-indulgence, or cherished ill feelings 
toward others, or permitted your temper to 
be kept irritated by some unimportant vex- 
ations, or let your imagination run loose 
among forbidden desires ? Ask yourself 
such questions ; and perhaps in the nature 
of your recent occupations you may detect 
the cause of your present listlessness. If 
so, change the general turn of your life. In 
the words of Cowper's hymn, it is only 
' A closer walk with God/ which can bring 
back ' the blessedness you once enjoyed.' 
Now your heart is desolate and unsatisfied ; 
you find in it ' an aching void, which God 
alone can fill • ; and it is only by renewing 
your acquaintance with him, that you can 
renew your peace. 

But, after all, remember that you are to 
judge of the real worth of these seasons, not 
by your enjoyment of them as they pass, 
not by the luxury or rapture of your contem- 
plation, but by their effect upon your char- 
acter and principles, by the religious power 
you gain from them toward meeting the du- 
ties and sufferings, the joys and sorrows, 



79 



the temptations, trials, and conflicts of ac- 
tual life. Meditation is a means of reli- 
gion ; not to be rested in as a final good, 
nor allowed to satisfy us, except so far as it 
imparts to the character a permanent im- 
press of seriousness and duty, and strength- 
ens the principles of faith and self-govern- 
ment. If it add daily vigor to your resolu- 
tions, and secure order to your thoughts, se- 
renity to your temper, and uprightness to your 
life, then it has fulfilled its legitimate pur- 
pose. If, on the other hand, it end in the 
reverie of the hour, then, however fervent 
and exalted, it is, comparatively speaking, 
worthless to yourself and unacceptable to 
God. Its permanent influence on the char- 
acter is the true test of its value. 

It is easy to see, therefore, that there are 
three purposes which you have in view ; the 
cultivation of a religious spirit, the scrutiny 
of your life and character, the renewing of 
your good purposes. 

By the first of these, you are to insure the 
predominance of a spiritual frame of mind, 
a perpetual, paramount interest in divine 
truth, and its incorporation with the frame 
and constitution of your soul ; so that you 
e3 



80 

shall be continually enlarging your appre- 
hensions concerning God, his providence, 
and his purposes, and at the same time 
make them part of the very substance and 
materials of your intellectual constitution, 
the pervading and actuating motives of all 
your life. 

By this means religion becomes to the 
Christian what the spirit of his profession is 
to the soldier, the one present thought, mo- 
tive, and impulse, absorbing all others, and 
urging him to his one great object by its 
mastery over all other thoughts, principles, 
and affections. The other two purposes of 
meditation which I mentioned, may be de- 
scribed as the surveying and burnishing of 
the warrior's arms, in preparation for the 
summons to actual combat ; or as the act 
of the mariner in mid ocean, who every day 
lifts his instruments to the light of heaven, 
and consults his charts and his books, that he 
may learn where he is, and what Has been his 
progress, and whether any change must be 
made in his course in order to his reaching 
the intended haven. The warrior who 
should allow his arms to rust for want of a 
little daily care, and the mariner who should 



81 

be shipwrecked from neglect of taking sea- 
sonable observations, are emblems of the 
folly of the man who presses on through 
life, without ever pausing to scrutinize the 
principles on which he acts, and rectify the 
errors he has committed. 

This self-examination must be universal ; 
embracing alike the conduct of your ex- 
ternal life and the habitual tenor of your 
mind. You must survey the train of your 
thoughts, the temper you have sustained, 
your deportment toward others, your con- 
versation, your employment, the use of your 
time and of your wealth ; you must consider 
by what sort of motives you are prevailingly 
guided, what is the probable effect of your 
example, and whether you are doing all the 
good which might be reasonably expected of 
you ; you must compare yourself with the ex- 
ample of Jesus Christ, and measure your life 
by the laws of holy living prescribed in his 
gospel. And in order that these and other 
topics may all have their place in the survey, 
it may not be amiss to keep them by you 
on a written list. Cotton Mather adopted 
and recommended the practice of assigning 
to such inquiries each its particular day of 
e4 



82 

the week ; so that every day might have its 
own topic of reflection, and every topic its 
due share of attention. Others may find 
this a useful suggestion. 

A renewal of your resolutions is to follow 
this inquiry. Knowing where you are, and 
what you need, you are to arrange your 
purposes accordingly. It is a sad error of 
some to fancy that seeing and acknowledging 
their faults is all which is required of them. 
They sit down and bewail them, and in 
weeping and sorrow waste that energy of 
mind which should have been exerted in 
amendment. But it is surely far better, 
with manly readiness to rise and act without 
a tear, than to shed torrents of bitter water, 
and still go on as before. Regret and re- 
morse naturally express themselves in weep- 
ing ; but repentance shows itself in action. 
It may begin in sorrow, but it ends in refor- 
mation. And you have little reason to be 
satisfied with your reflections and your pen- 
itence, if they do not issue in prompt and 
resolute action. 



83 



III. Prayer. 

As there is no duty more frequently en- 
joined in the New Testament by our Saviour 
and the Apostles, so there is none which is 
a more indispensable and efficacious means 
of religious improvement^ than Prayer ; for 
which reasons it demands particular atten- 
tion. 

The practice of devotion is a sign of spir- 
itual life, and a means of peserving it. No 
one prays heartily without some deep reli- 
gious sentiment to actuate him. This sen- 
timent may be but occasionally felt ; it may 
be transient in duration ; but the exercise 
of it in acts of devotion tends to render it 
habitual and permanent, and its frequent 
exercise causes the mind at length to exist 
always in a devout posture. He who truly 
prays, feels, during the act, a sense of God's 
presence, authority, and love ; of his own 
obligations and unworthiness ; of his need 
of being better. He feels grateful, humble, 
resigned, anxious for improvement. He 
who prays often, often has these feelings, 
and by frequent repetition they become cus- 
tomary and constant. And thus prayer op- 
erates as an active, steady, powerful means 
of Christian progress. 



84 

Indeed nothing effectual is to be done 
without it. That it is a chief duty, even 
natural reason would persuade us. That it 
is a condition on which divine blessings are 
bestowed, Christianity assures us. That it 
is a high gratification and enjoyment, every 
one knows who has rightly engaged in it. 
And that it is of all means of moral restraint 
and spiritual advancement the most effec- 
tive, no one can doubt, who undertands how 
powerfully it stirs and agitates the strongest 
and most active principles of man, and how 
complete is the dominion which those prin- 
ciples have over his character and conduct. 
All this is clear and sufficient, without ad- 
ding the assurance of the Saviour, that it is 
effectual to draw down spiritual aid from 
heaven. Add this, and the subject is com- 
plete. It is, both naturally and by appoint- 
ment, a chief duty of man ; from the nature 
of the soul and the intercourse it opens with 
God, it is the first enjoyment ; and through 
its own intrinsic power and the promise of 
Jesus, it is the most effectual instrument of 
moral and spiritual culture. 

Perhaps you have been accustomed to 
the performance of this duty from your 



85 

childhood. You were early taught to re- 
peat your prayers, morning and evening. 
Pains were taken to make you understand 
the nature of the duty, and to give you right 
impressions in performing it. Perhaps you 
have retained these impressions, and have 
continued to this time the practice of sin- 
cere devotion. On the other hand, you may 
have lost those impressions and become 
neglectful of the duty. Or perhaps you are 
so unhappy as never to have received in- 
struction on this head. You have passed 
through childhood without the practice, 
and without the sentiment which should in- 
spire it ; and now, when awakened to a sense 
of your responsibility, you find yourself a 
stranger to the mercy-seat. But however 
the case may be, the sense of your religious 
wants now urges you to devotion ; and you 
are anxious to make that acquaintance with 
God, which alone can secure you peace. 
How to perform the duty, how to gain the 
satisfaction, how to reap the advantage, are 
points upon which you are anxious to obtain 
direction. 

First of all, let me urge upon you the 
importance of a plan and of customary sea- 



86 

sons for your devotions. Have your settled 
appointments of time and place, and let 
nothing interfere with them. Many would 
persuade you that this is too formal ; that 
you should be left more at liberty ; that as 
you are to pray always, it is quite needless 
to assign any special season for the duty. 
And one may conceive of a person having 
arrived at so high a measure of spiritual at- 
tainment, that his thoughts should be a per- 
petual worship, and retirement to his closet 
would bring his mind no nearer to God. 
But such is at best an infrequent case ; at 
any rate it is not yours, — you are a begin- 
ner ; it never can be yours, except you use 
the requisite means of arriving at it ; and 
certainly among the surest means is the 
custom of setting apart stated seasons for 
devotion. So that the very reason assigned 
for neglecting, becomes a strong reason for 
observing them. You must feed the soul as 
you do the body, furnishing it with suitable 
nourishment at suitable intervals. You 
must keep its armour bright and serviceable, 
as does the soldier in human warfare, who 
examines and restores it at a certain hour 
daily. If it were left to be done at any 



87 

convenient season, a thousand trifling en- 
gagements might cause the work to be de- 
ferred again arid again, till irretrievable 
injury should accrue. You have too many 
other engagements and enticements daily 
and hourly occurring, to make it safe for 
you to leave this to accidental convenience 
or inclination. In order to secure its per- 
formance, you must put it on the list of your 
daily indispensable engagements ; and as it 
is part of your routine at certain hours to 
breakfast and dine, and at certain hours to 
attend to the concerns of your household and 
profession, so also must it be, to retire at 
certain hours for religious worship. The 
wisdom and experience of all the religious 
world insist on this ; and it would not be 
necessary to state it so urgently, if it did 
not seem to be a notion growing into favor 
with some, that, as the spirit and not the 
form is the essential thing, it is better not 
to be burdened with methods and rules, but 
simply to pray always ; — which, there is rea- 
son to fear, would in practice be found a pre- 
cept to pray never. 

Assign to yourself therefore some conven- 
ient hour, when you shall be secure from 



88 



interruption, and not hurried by the call of 
other business. If you are much engaged 
in active affairs, you may perhaps be unable 
to secure this, unless you rise for the pur- 
pose in the morning, and sit up for it at 
night. This then you must do. Deprive 
yourself of a few moments' sleep, morning 
and evening. And I may ask here, wheth- 
er the multitude of persons who excuse their 
inattention to religious exercises by their 
want of time, do not thereby expose them- 
selves to a suspicion of insincerity ? For if 
they were truly in earnest, it would be a 
very little thing to retire to their chambers 
fifteen minutes earlier, and to rise from their 
beds fifteen minutes sooner. If they were 
aware of the magnitude of the gain, the sac- 
rifice would seem insignificant. Nay, they 
might even perform the duty upon their 
beds ; there would be no want of time then. 
And some, who from the misfortune of pov- 
erty have no place to which they can retire, 
being compelled to live at every moment in 
the company of others ; should learn to feel 
that the bed is their closet ; that when lying 
there they can ' pray to the Father who 
seeth in secret 5 ; and that they need make 



89 

no complaint of want of opportunity, so long 
as they may follow the Psalmist, who said, 
' I remember thee on my bed, and meditate 
on thee in the night-watches.' 

Having then your stated times, if you 
would make them in the highest measure 
profitable, observe the following rules. First 
of all, when the hour has arrived, seek to 
excite in your mind a sense of the divine 
presence, and of the greatness of the act in 
which you are engaging. Summon up the 
whole energy of your mind. Put all your 
powers upon the stretch. Do not allow 
yourself to utter a word, to use an expres- 
sion thoughtlessly, nor without setting be- 
fore yourself, in a distinct form, its full mean- 
ing. Remember the words of Ecclesiasti- 
cus : ' When you glorify the Lord, exalt 
him as much as you can ; for even yet will 
he far exceed : and when you exalt him, 
put forth all your strength, and be not 
weary ; for you can never go far enough.' 
Pour your whole soul, the utmost inten- 
sity of your feelings, into your words. One 
sentence uttered thus is better than the cold 
repetition of an entire liturgy. For this 
reason, let your prayer be preceded by med- 



00 

itation. In this way make an earnest effort 
after a devout temper. While you thus muse, 
the fire of your devotion will kindle, aud 
then you may speak with your tongue ; then 
you may breathe out the adoring sentiments 
of praise and thanksgiving, the holy aspira- 
tions after excellence and grace, the hum- 
ble confessions of your contrite spirit, the 
glowing emotions of Christian faith. As 
you proceed, you will probably find yourself 
increasing in warmth and energy ; espe- 
cially if you give way to the impulse of your 
feelings, and do not check them by watch- 
ing them too closely. To do this chills the 
current of devotion, and changes your 
prayer from the simple expression of desire 
and affection, into an exercise of mental 
philosophy. Wherefore, having warmed 
your mind, give it free way, and let its re- 
ligious ardor flow on. But if, as will often 
be the case, you find your thoughts wander 
and your feelings cool, then pause, and by 
silent thought bring back the mind to its 
duty ; and thus intermix meditation with 
prayer, in such manner that you shall never 
fall into the mechanical, unmeaning repeti- 
tion of mere words, 



91 



As your object is not to get through with 
a certain task, but to pray devoutly, you 
will find it well to vary your method accord- 
ing to circumstances, and not always ad- 
here to the same mode. I have sometimes 
suspected, that one cause of the little efficacy 
of public worship may be the invariable 
method of conducting it; whereby it is ren- 
dered formal, monotonous, and deficient in 
excitement. But however this may be, it is 
quite certain that a similar unvaried routine 
would be extremely injudicious in private 
devotion. In this respect a very consider- 
able latitude is desirable. You are not to 
consult the wants or the convenience of 
others, but your own duty alone. You may 
therefore have a single regard to what shall 
suit the immediate temper and exigencies of 
your own mind, without being bound by any 
prescribed rule as to subject, language, or 
posture. You will always have by you the 
Bible to quicken and guide you. But some- 
times the first verse you read may lead you 
to feelings, thoughts, and prayers, which 
shall so occupy your soul that you will read 
no more. And it is better to read but one 
verse, which thus influences your whole 

F 



92 

spiritual nature, than to read chapters in 
the unheedful way that is too often practis- 
ed. At another time, however, the reading 
of the Scriptures may be your principal oc- 
cupation, and your less excited mind may 
not flow beyond a short ejaculation at the 
close of each verse. Sometimes you may 
find it well to assist yourself by a printed or 
written form ; always taking care, however, 
to leave it where any sentiment or feeling 
arises within you which is not there ex- 
pressed. The main advantage of a form in 
private is, to suggest thoughts, and stimulate 
our minds ; as soon as it has done this, we 
should lay it down, and go on of ourselves. 
Then presently, if we find it necessary, we 
may again recur to the form, and make the 
whole exercise, if we please, an alternate use 
of the form and of our own language. In 
all this we must be guided by the occasion, 
Similar varieties may be allowed in re- 
gard to the subjects of our devotions. There 
are some great and leading topics of adora- 
tion and supplication, which may at no 
time be forgotten or omitted. But it can- 
not be necessary in every prayer to go over 
the whole field of devotional sentiment. It 



93 

is best that we confine ourselves principally 
to those which are most immediately inter- 
esting at the time, and seek to render our 
present circumstances, fortunes, failings, 
and prospects the nourishment of our devo- 
tion. The temptations of our peculiar lot, 
our recent trials of temper, fortitude, and 
faith, the dealings of Providence with our 
family and friends, the exposure, wants, and 
improvement of those most dear to us, these, 
as they are at other moments of the greatest 
concern to us, should be the objects upon 
which we should, first of all, seek the 
blessing of God. This it is to connect every 
thing with religion ; in this way we shall 
avoid the error, into which some have fallen, 
of making religion a wholly independent 
existence, with no reference to the ordinary 
duties of active life, and no bearing on its 
common concerns, and of course exercising 
no influence upon them. Such persons have 
exhibited the strange spectacle of two con- 
tradictory characters in one man, the one 
apparently devout, the other immoral. But 
the consistent Christian will never separate 
his religion from his life r nor his life from 
his religion. He will seek to incorporate 



94 

them most intimately with each other. And 
this he will effect, in no small degree, by 
making his daily prayers, not the expression 
of general principles, and indefinite confes- 
sion, the recitation of articles of faith, or 
declaration of vague desires after holiness ; 
but the expression of those sentiments which 
belong to his peculiar condition, and a per- 
petual reference to his personal character 
and circumstances. It is for these and con- 
cerning these that he will pray ; and there- 
fore his prayers will vary as these do. 

So much, in a general way, respecting the 
subjects of private devotion. Next we may 
say a few words respecting the posture. 
This need not be invariably the same. 
Many have laid stress upon it ; but it seems 
to me there is a certain freedom to be 
allowed in this particular to those who 
are invited ( to come boldly to the throne of 
grace.' Provided we secure the right state 
of the heart, it can matter little what the at- 
titude of the body may be. There are times 
when the lowest prostration seems best 
to express and to promote the sentiment of 
lowly adoration and broken-hearted humili- 
ation in which the worshipper supplicates 



95 



his Father. But again, in a different tone 
of spirit, he is prompted to stand erect, and 
lift up his head and hands, as an attitude best 
corresponding to the elevated sentiments by 
which he is rilled. While sometimes he feels 
that in walking to and fro, or sitting with his 
head leaning upon his hands, he can best 
summon his mind to its duty of spiritual 
worship. Cecil says that his oratory was a 
little walk in the corner of his chamber, 
where he paced backward and forward as 
he prayed. Others have been able to be 
devout only on their knees. What I would 
briefly urge is, that you be not scrupulous 
on this head. Allow yourself in any mode. 
Try various modes. Adopt from time to 
time, that which best cultivates and encour- 
ages the right tone of feeling. At the same 
time you will probably find some truth in 
the remark, that the adoption of a suitable 
posture aids the adoption of a suitable frame 
of mind ; that the expression of reverence 
in the attitude conveys a feeling of rever- 
ence to the spirit ; for which reason it will 
be generally best to assume the posture most 
associated with the sentiments of devotion, 
and depart from it only when the change 
f2 



96 

may be favorable to engagedness and fervor of 
mind. The soul may be as truly prostrated 
when you stand, or walk, or ride, or work, 
or lie in your bed, as when you kneel before 
the altar. 

Neither be too scrupulous concerning the 
use of your lips. It is oftentimes as well, 
or better, to pray mentally, without uttering 
a sound. Yet at the same time there is 
danger, if this become our practice, that it 
will end in turning prayer into meditation, 
and that our hours of devotion will become 
hours of musing and reverie. This would 
be injurious ; and therefore we should com- 
monly use articulate language. Our thoughts 
are so much associated with words, and 
words with their sounds, that it is not easy 
to think connectedly and profitably without 
the use of speech. It is well, as I have be- 
fore said, to muse for a time ; but when, 
after musing, the fire is kindled within us, 
as the Psalmist expresses it, then we should 
6 speak with our tongues.' We shall find this 
an essential aid in rendering our sentiments 
and train of thought distinct to ourselves ; 
and in so impressing them on our memories 
that we shall be able to employ them after- 



97 

ward for our guidance and comfort. Good 
sentiments, which merely pass through the 
mind but are not put into words, are apt to 
leave no trace behind them ; and he who 
should habitually indulge himself in think- 
ing his prayers instead of expressing them, 
would find it extremely difficult to say what 
he had prayed for, or to turn to any account 
in common life the employment of his sacred 
hours. 

Meditation is, in its nature, an act very 
distinct from prayer ; and must be very dis- 
tinct in its effects. Some effects may be 
common to the two ; but much of the pecul- 
iar and the happiest influence of devotion on 
the character must be lost to the man who 
allows musing to take the place of prayer. 
It is one thing to contemplate a blessing 
and desire it ; quite another to ask for it. 
The latter may require a very different tem- 
per of mind from the former ; and it is plain 
that the promise of God is given to those 
who ask, not to those who desire ; to those 
who employ petition, not those who are 
content with contemplation. Therefore ar- 
range your thoughts in words ; and gener- 
ally give them a distinct utterance in sound ; 
f3 



98 

pausing occasionally for reflection, and being 
certain that you do not employ words only, 
but that the thoughts which they express 
are actually in your mind. 

In regard to the choice of words, be not 
too anxious. Take those which express 
your meaning, without regard to their ele- 
gance or eloquence. You will naturally 
fall into language borrowed from the Scrip- 
tures, and that is always good and appro- 
priate. Only take heed that you do not use 
it mechanically, and without due considera- 
tion of its significance. But when you do not 
use the terms of scripture, take those which 
express what you mean, and consider nothing 
further. I would lay the more stress upon 
this, because some persons actually plead as 
an excuse for the neglect of this duty, that 
they have no command of language, and can- 
not readily find correct and proper words. 
This would be a very good reason for not at- 
tempting to pray in public ; and it were to 
be wished that some, who are forward to ex- 
hibit themselves in this act, would consider 
it more seriously. It is an injury to reli- 
gion, when he, who speaks to God in the 
public assembly, or the circle of social wor- 



99 

ship, does it in rude, hesitating, confused, 
inappropriate, or ungrammatical language. 
But in private, when you are simply to pour 
out your heart, and have no witness but 
Heaven, allow yourself to put aside all solici- 
tude on this head. Speak as you feel, and 
what you feel ; only taking care that your 
feelings are right, and that you know what 
they are. Alas, you will often find it a task 
difficult enough to regulate your feelings, 
govern your thoughts, repress wandering de- 
sires, keep out vain images, and bring your 
soul to a proper attitude of reverence and 
love, without the added embarrassment of 
arranging words by the rules of rhetoric and 
taste. This is an occupation which inter- 
feres with the spirituality of the duty you 
are performing. I beseech you to disregard 
it altogether. 

As respects times and seasons, it may be 
considered as a salutary rule, that it is bet- 
ter to pray often than long. There are 
times undoubtedly, when the mind is glow- 
ing and the heart full, that the exercise may 
be advantageously continued through a long 
period, and the disciple, like his Master, may 
spend the whole night in prayer. It would 
f4 



100 



be a pity to check the current when it flows 
thus spontaneously, or to lose the luxury of 
such a season. There may be seasons, too, 
when duty and improvement shall seem to 
demand an extraordinary continuance in de- 
votion. I do not therefore rocommend that 
you should limit yourself to a certain stint- 
ed number of minutes, and always cease 
your labor at the stroke of the clock. But, 
as a general rule, do not covet long prayers ; 
rather multiply their number than increase 
their length. This is the rule of Christ ; 
who insists that we pray often and always, 
but that we do not pray long. A most wise 
regulation. For the mind is easily wearied 
by a long exercise, and is likely to return 
to it slowly and reluctantly ; and in the in- 
terval it is liable to go back, like the swing- 
ing pendulum, into a directly opposite state. 
From which cause it may too readily hap- 
pen, that the extended devotions of the 
morning shall exhaust the attention of the 
mind and produce religious listlessness dur- 
ing the day. Whereas, a shorter act of 
worship, which should excite without ex- 
hausting, which should kindle the fire but 
not burn it out, would leave a glow upon 



101 

the feelings, that would abide for hours, and 
prompt to holy thoughts and spontaneous 
acts of worship at short intervals throughout 
the day. In this manner, the great object 
of keeping up a religious wakefulness and 
sensibility is with greater certainty obtain- 
ed, and the whole current of life more surely 
colored by the infusion of religious senti- 
ment. 

Let this therefore be your method. Accus- 
tom yourself to what is called ejaculatory 
prayer ; that is, to very frequent petitions 
and thanksgivings, bursting out from your 
soul at all times and wherever you may be. 
Walk with God, as you would journey with 
an intimate friend ; not satisfied to make 
formal addresses to him at stated seasons, 
but turning to him in brief and familiar 
speech whenever opportunity offers, or oc- 
casion or feeling prompts. Remember that 
ceremonious addresses are appointed and 
are chiefly necessary on social and ceremo- 
nious occasions, when a company of men is 
together and many minds are to act at once. 
They can act and be acted upon simultane- 
ously in no other way ; and therefore, in 
civil and state affairs, as well as in reli- 



102 

gious, this method is in use. But when we 
come to more private, domestic, confiden- 
tial intercourse, we abandon these formal 
and complimentary arrangements, and find 
it most natural and happy to do as occasion 
prompts in a free and unrestrained style of 
conduct and of speech. Just so it should 
be in our more private and confidential com- 
munion with the great Father of our spirits. 
The more it is unembarrassed by precise 
forms and ceremonious appendages, and left 
to the promptings of the feelings and of the 
moment, the more appropriate is it to our 
title of ' children,' and the greater is the fe- 
licity which it furnishes. 

It has of course been implied in the pre- 
ceding remarks, that all is to be done in the 
spirit of devotion. In what manner this 
may be effected, it is necessary to state more 
distinctly ; and the rules to be given for this 
end will sufficiently explain in what that 
spirit consists. 

First, then, the genuine, effectual prayer 
is the prayer of Faith ; not of words, not of 
form ; not an exercise of the understanding, 
reasoning on the attributes and dispensa- 
tions of God, and uttering its judgments on 



103 

duty ; but an address to him, accompanied 
by a confident persuasion that he hears and 
regards. ' He that cometh to God/ says 
the Apostle, ' must believe that he is, and 
that he is a rewarder of them that diligently 
seek him. ; Of this there must be no doubt 
on the mind. You must realize that you 
are actually speaking to him, and he listen- 
ing to you, as truly as when you address 
yourself to a visible mortal ; and you must 
have as real a conviction that something de- 
pends on the act, and as real a desire to re- 
ceive what you ask for, as when you make 
a request for some important favor to a hu- 
man friend. If you doubt, your prayer is 
weak and inefficacious. c Ask in faith/ says 
James, ' nothing wavering ; for he that 
wavereth, is like a wave of the sea, driven 
with the wind and tossed.' His uncertain 
and fluctuating mind wants stability, and 
cannot receive a blessing. Therefore it is 
added, ' Let not that man think that he 
shall obtain any thing from the Lord.' May 
we not suppose, that much of the dissatis- 
faction attendant on our prayers, and much 
of their unfruitfulness, is owing to the doubt- 
ful, hesitating state of mind, in which they 



104 



are offered ? And what can be more miser- 
ably destructive of all energy and interest in 
the employment 1 If you doubt whether 
you shall be heard, you will pray timidly 
and coldly, without courage or spirit. If 
your prayers are thus lifeless, your conduct 
will be so too, and all spiritual savour will 
fade away from your life. Do not then allow 
in yourself this doubtfulness of temper. The 
most extravagant fanaticism, which sees a 
visible light descending as it prays, and 
finds an answer in presentiments and 
dreams, is not more mistaken, and is far 
more happy. Give yourself up to the assur- 
ance, that they who ask shall be heard, and 
go ' boldly to the throne of grace/ Jesus, 
by his invitations and doctrine, has given 
you a right to this confidence ; and it is 
only in the exercise of it, humbly but firm- 
ly, that you may ' cast out the fear which 
hath torment.' 

Next, your prayer must be fervent ; that 
is, your affections must be engaged and in- 
terested in it. You must not barely, as a 
reasoning philosopher, or well instructed 
pupil, declare what you coolly judge to be 
right, and assert that man in his present re- 



105 

lations ought to seek and do what is right, 
and that God as the Father and Governor 
should be adored and obeyed, (which is the 
tenor of the devotional exercises one some- 
times hears) ; but you must set yourself ac- 
tually to do these things. You can only be 
said to pray, when the sentiment you utter 
springs from your heart ; and, rising above 
all the arguments and persuasions of the 
wise, you pour out your feelings, as a little 
child confides its thoughts to a parent's 
bosom ; thinking only of your own depen- 
dence and need, and of God's ability and 
readiness to succour you, and earnestly as- 
piring after that purity and piety, which you 
feel to constitute the excellence and bliss of 
man. When this fervent glow is upon your 
mind, you pray in the spirit. Seek for it. 
Be not content without it. 

In the next place, do not allow yourself to 
grow weary. Persevere; however ill-satis- 
fied, however discouraged, persevere. Open 
the New Testament, and you will see how 
this is insisted upon, again and again, and 
by various illustrations. ' That men should 
always pray, and never faint/ was the great 
moral of more than one of our Lord's para* 



106 

bles ; and to ( pray without ceasing ' was the 
corresponding direction of his Apostles. 
Situated as we are in this world, there is dan- 
ger that, perceiving little immediate fruit 
from our devotions, we should relax our dili- 
gence in them ; first doubting their value, 
then losing our interest in them, and then 
ceasing to perform them. But we should 
recollect, that, in this case, as in all the most 
important and admirable provisions of Di- 
vine Wisdom, it is the order of Heaven to 
give, not to a single exertion, nor to a few 
acts, nor even to some continuance of ef- 
fort, but only to a long, unremitted, perse- 
vering effort. We read this lesson every 
where. Look at that glorious operation of 
God, by which the sun cherishes and ma- 
tures the fruits of the earth for the suste- 
nance of its creatures. It is not accom- 
plished by one act, nor by several acts, nor 
yet by sudden, violent exertions of power. 
He sends out his beams steadily day by 
day, month after month ; yet the fruit is 
still green, the harvest immature ; and if, 
weary with the work, he should abandon it, 
famine might devastate the globe, when but 
six days' longer perseverance would see it 



107 

successful. The whole toil of the season 
might thus be thrown away, when a trifling 
addition only was necessary to render it all 
effective. In how many other cases is the 
same truth illustrated ! Will you then aban- 
don your prayers, because you do not wit- 
ness the effect from them which you desire ? 
Will you be discouraged, when by a little 
longer continuance you may receive the full 
blessing at once ? Shall the husbandman 
* wait patiently,' and will you, looking for an 
immortal harvest, lose it for want of pa- 
tience ? No. This is the eternal, immu- 
table rule in regard to all great acquisitions. 
Piety and virtue, character and immortality, 
depend upon a long succession of actions, 
neither of them, taken singly, of essential 
moment, yet all in the aggregate essential 
to effect the great end in view. Apply this 
consideration to your prayers, and resolutely 
persevere. 

Thus it is the humble prayer of confident 
faith, fervent and persevering, from which 
you are to hope benefit and acceptance. 

But you may ask, How shall I know that 
it is accepted, and with what answer should 
I be satisfied ? 



108 

To the first part of this question, there is 
but one reply. If you are conscious of hav- 
ing prayed aright, you may be assured that 
your prayer is accepted. You can have no 
external evidence of the fact ; but the Scrip- 
tures every where declare, that a right 
prayer is certainly accepted. This then is 
a reason for self-examination, and for care- 
fully regulating the state of your mind. 

You may imagine, however, that you are 
rather to judge by the answer to your pray- 
ers ; and that if, after offering earnest peti- 
tions for certain blessings, you find them 
denied, you are to suppose that your devo- 
tions are not accepted. 

In regard to this I observe, that the pur- 
pose of prayer is twofold, particular and gen- 
eral ; the first, to supplicate certain specific 
blessings which we need or desire ; the 
second, to obtain the divine favor in general; 
or, which is equivalent to it, to obtain that 
state of mind and heart which is always an 
object of complacency with God, and se- 
cures his permanent approbation. Now it is 
evident, that the latter is an object infinitely 
more important than the former. It is of 
no consequence whether you receive certain 



109 



gifts of health, or safety, or prosperous affairs, 
in comparison with the importance of attain- 
ing that frame of soul which God approves, 
and which will fit you for heaven. If then 
you have plainly gathered from your devo- 
tions the advantage of a religious growth, if 
you are brought by them nearer to God, 
formed into the likeness of Jesus Christ, and 
made superior to the things of earth and 
sense ; — then you have gained the highest 
objects which man may aspire to, and should 
feel no dissatisfaction or doubt because in- 
ferior blessings are denied. Having received 
the greater, you should be content not to 
receive the less. And this is a sufficient re- 
ply to the second part of the question stated 
above : viz. With what answer shall I be 
satisfied ? Be satisfied with that answer, 
which is found in the improving state of 
your own religious affections ; in the peace, 
serenity, confidence, and hope, which belong 
to a mind habitually conversant with God, 
and which God bestows only on such. 

I do not mean to say, that other and more 
specific answers may not be sometimes given ; 
for doubtless the devout mind may often have 
reason to trace particular blessings, and with 

G 



110 

a practised eye may trace them, to a source 
which has been opened in reply to the prayer 
of faith. When you shall perceive it to be so 
in your own case, happy will you be ; and 
you will not fail to acknowledge it with suit- 
able gratitude. But what I mean to say, is, 
that this is not what you are habitually to 
expect ; you are not to wait for this in order 
to the satisfaction of your mind. God feeds 
his children with spiritual food ; and it is 
one part of his discipline of their faith, to 
deny them temporal blessings in order to the 
more abundant bestowal of those that are 
spiritual ; to advance the moral man to per- 
fection through the disappointment or mor- 
tification of the outward man. Do not then 
be uneasy, because your prayers may at first 
view seem inefficacious, and return to you 
empty. The service of truth and virtue is 
not to be rewarded by the wages of this 
world's goods. Health, strength, riches, 
prosperity, are not the best, they are not 
the appropriate, recompense, for selfdenial, 
humility, benevolence, and purity. The 
true recompense is eternal and imper- 
ishable. If you have this, why be dissatis- 
fied that you have not the other ? If you have 



Ill 

this, how can you fancy that God has not 
accepted your prayer ? 

To which it may be added, that if you pray- 
ed aright, you prayed in the spirit of sub- 
mission ; not only acknowledging, but feel- 
ing, the wisdom of Heaven to be greater 
than your own, and desiring to obtain only 
such gifts as that wisdom should judge it best 
to bestow. Such gifts, of course, are granted. 
If therefore you were sincere, you should be 
content. You are not relieved, perhaps, 
from the trouble against which you prayed ; 
the evil you fear comes, the good you desire 
is denied, notwithstanding your earnest sup- 
plication. But does it follow that your prayer 
is slighted ? Believe it not. What you de- 
signed was, to ask blessings ; you named the 
things which you esteemed such ; but at the 
same time you knew that your judgment was 
fallible. If God has refused the things speci- 
fied, it is because in his judgment they 
would not prove blessings, and he has bestow- 
ed in their stead an increase of faith, which 
is a real blessing. Or perhaps I may say, 
he has proposed to you a discipline of your 
faith, which will prove a transcendent good, 
unless, by your blind discontent and misuse 
of it, you turn it into a curse. 



112 

It will follow from these remarks, that we 
are to dwell in prayer on topics rather 
of a spiritual than of a temporal nature ; 
should ask such things as relate rather to our 
character than to our condition, rather to our 
religious than to our worldly prosperity. For 
these being the chief objects of desire and 
happiness (so much so that our petitions for 
earthly good oftentimes receive no reply 
but in the state of our own minds), it must 
follow that they should be our chief objects 
of interest and desire in our exalted hours 
of communication with God. Our religious 
addresses in those hours are made up of ad- 
oration, thanksgiving, confession, petition. 
Now two of these, adoration and confession, 
relate to spiritual objects exclusively. The 
other two relate to objects of both a spiritual 
and temporal character, the blessings and 
wants of both soul and body. But it is plain 
that the former far exceed the latter in num- 
ber and in importance, and should therefore 
occupy the larger share of attention. If then 
you would do what is most consonant to the 
nature of the exercise, and your own most 
real wants ; if you would receive blessings 
corresponding to the petitions you express ; 



113 

you will dwell principally on spiritual and 
immortal good ; seeking first of all, in 
prayer as at all times, 'the kingdom of God 
and its righteousness. 5 You will do this, 
also, if you would copy the pattern which 
our Lord has given ; for of the seven sen- 
tences of the prayer which he taught his dis- 
ciples, only one has relation to man's tem- 
poral condition. You will do it, if you would 
imitate our great Exemplar and Master, 
whose recorded prayers have exclusive 
regard to the welfare of his spiritual king- 
dom and the bestowment of internal bles- 
sings. 

And it is not to the example alone of the 
Saviour that you are to have reference in 
your prayers. You are also to regard him, 
as the Mediator, through whom they are to 
be offered. It belongs to the system of our 
religion, that the thought of its Founder 
should be associated in the minds of its dis- 
ciples with all that they are and do ; with 
their sense of obligation, and their sentiments 
of piety. They are ' to do every thing in the 
name of the Lord Jesus ' ; with a conscious- 
ness of their connexion with him, and of their 
dependence upon the instruction, motives, 
g2 



114 

and strength they have received from him. 
They are ' to walk by faith in the son of God/ 
His image is to beblended with their whole 
life. Especially is this to be the case in the 
acts of life which are strictly and peculiarly 
religious. ( Whatsoever ye ask in my name, 
believing.' ' Giving thanks unto God and 
the Father by him.' It is only through his in- 
struction, authority, and encouragement, that 
they know their privilege of filial worship, 
and are enabled so to offer it that they may 
look for acceptance. The hope of pardon 
on the confession of sin is grounded upon what 
he has done, suffered, and declared ; and 
the confidence with which the penitent seeks 
forgiveness and life, is owing to his trust in 
the word of Jesus, and his being able to lean 
on him as a friend and advocate, when he casts 
himself a suppliant before God. Understand, 
then, that the acceptable prayer is that which 
is made in the name of the great Intercessor ; 
and let your heart be warmed and embolden- 
ed in your devotions by the consciousness of 
your relation to him ' whom the Father hear- 
eth always.' 

I will add but two further remarks before 
closing this topic. First, I have all along 



115 

assumed, that I am addressing a person sin* 
cerely engaged in the pursuit of religious 
attainments. This sincerity of pursuit is a 
fundamental requisite, without which all ex- 
hortations, means, assistance, sacrifices, will 
be only thrown away. If therefore, after 
having made some effort after a spirit of de- 
votion, in pursuance of the course recom- 
mended, you find, as men sometimes do, that 
you derive from it neither improvement nor 
satisfaction, I recommend to you to examine 
whether you are really in earnest ; whether 
you do, actually, in your heart, desire relig- 
ious improvement ; whether, in short, there 
be not in you a lurking preference for your 
present state of mind, and an attachment to 
some passion, taste, or pursuit, incompatible 
with a zealous devotedness to Christian truth, 
and a suitable attention to the discipline 
which it demands. Many are no doubt pre- 
vented from advancement by secret hin- 
drances of this nature, of whose operation 
they are not at all aware. If, upon inquiry, 
you cannot discover that it is so with you, 
then examine strictly the methods you have 
pursued, and the observances you have prac- 
tised. You will probably find that they have 
g3 



110 

been in some particulars injudiciously se- 
lected, or improperly or insufficiently attend- 
ed ; that you have failed in a resolute, 
steadfast, systematic adherence to your own 
rules ; that you have habitually allowed 
yourself in something wrong, or neglected 
something right. Look after your mistake. 
When you shall have discovered and correct- 
ed it, you may be certain of securing the 
improvement you desire. 

Secondly, take heed that you do not al* 
low yourself to fancy, that an observance 
of these or similar rules constitutes all youif 
duty under this head. Do not forget, that 
the devotion which Christianity teaches is 
nothing less than perpetually thinking, feel- 
ing, and acting as becomes a child of God, 
— a perpetual worship. This is the end at 
which you are to aim ; — an end, however, 
which is not to be attained without the use 
of means ; and the directions in the preced- 
ing pages are designed simply to point out 
some of the means. Some persons do not 
need such directions. For them they are 
not designed. But there are others to 
whom they must be welcome and wholesome. 
Let such use them, but without forgetting 



117 

that they are means only. Let them guard, 
from the first and always, against the idea, 
that the practice of these will secure the 
great object, without any further exertion or 
sacrifice ; that to be devout men, they have 
only to observe stated seasons and perform 
stated acts. There cannot be a more 
pernicious error. It is at variance with the 
whole nature and spirit of Christianity. God is 
to be served by the entire life ; by its actions 
as well as its thoughts, its duties as well as 
its desires, its deeds as well as its feelings. 

The religious man must have the frame 
of his mind and the tenor of his conduct 
at all times religious ; in the market and 
the family, no less than in the closet and the 
church. Indeed, considering how much 
more of life is spent abroad in action and 
trial, than is passed in the worship and con- 
templation of retirement, it is plainly of 
greater consequence to watch and labor in 
the world, than in private. Besides that 
it is easier to be religiously disposed for 
an hour a day, when reading the Bible or 
kneeling at the altar, than it is to be so dur- 
ing the many other hours which are full of 
the world's temptations, and when all the 
g4 



I 



US 

irregular passions are liable to be excited. 
Remember, then, to try your prayers by 
your life ; you may know how sincere they 
are, by their agreement or disagreement with 
your habitual sentiments and conduct. Reg- 
ulate your life by your prayers ; in vain do 
you think yourself religious, if you go with 
holy words and humble confessions to the 
Divine presence, but at other times live in 
thoughtlesness and sin. True religion is a 
single thing. Devout exercises form a part 
of its exhibition ; holy living forms another 
part. Unless they exist together, it is to no 
purpose that that they exist at all. To sep- 
arate them is to destroy the religion. To this 
consideration, then, let your perpetual and 
vigilant attention be given ; and be satisfied 
with your hours of devotion, only when they 
exercise a sacred and constant influence over 
the condition of your mind and life, and 
have made them holy unto the Lord. 

IV. Preaching. 

From the more private means of religious 
improvement, we pass to the consideration 
of those which are in their nature public. 

Preaching is a divine institution ; and 
its authority and wisdom have been illustri- 



119 

ously justified in the success which has 
attended it in every age of the church. 
It is to a publication from the lips of living 
teachers, that the gospel owes its spread 
through so large a portion of the globe. 
At its first introduction, at its reformation, 
and in its present diffusion, it has been the 
- company of the preachers' that has arrested 
attention to its divine truths, and subdued 
the hearts of men to its holy power. And 
it always must be the case, however great 
may be the efficacy of those more personal 
instruments of which we have spoken, that 
the pulpit shall be the main engine for the 
incitement and instruction of the individual 
mind, and the maintenance of the power 
of religion in the Christian world. 

Multitudes, however, habitually attend 
the preaching of the gospel, with little profit, 
and with no adequate apprehension of its pur- 
pose or value. Habit, thoughtlessness, in- 
attention, worldliness, cause its sublime 
instructions to be unheeded, and render its 
powerful appeals unimpressive. It may have 
been so with you in times past. But if you 
are now truly awake to the necessity of 
studying the improvement of your character, 



i 



120 

and making God's will the rule of your life, 
you will listen eagerly to the preaching of 
his truth, and drink it in as a thirsty man 
water. I say nothing, therefore, to urge the 
duty of attendance in the house of prayer. 
You will esteem it one of your privileges ; 
and will feel that, however imperfectly the 
word may be dispensed, it is yet full of a di- 
vine savour, and profitable to any one who 
seeks his soul's good rather than his mind's 
entertainment. 

In order to the greatest advantage from 
this duty, it is well, in the first place, to 
give heed to the manner in which the other 
hours of the sabbath are spent. There can 
be no doubt that one considerable cause of 
the inefficacy of preaching, is to be found in 
the circumstance, that the remainder of the 
Sabbath is passed in a manner little likely 
to prepare the mind for its religious services, 
and suited to obliterate the impressions re- 
ceived from them. The sentiments excited 
in holy time, instead of being cherished, 
are checked and smothered by the uncon- 
genial engagements of the rest of the day ; 
and Sunday becomes at length even a 
day for hardening the heart, through this 
habitual resistance of the most solemn 



121 



truths. For when exposed to their frequent 
repetition, if it do not yield to them, it 
must inevitably become callous to them. 
This evil you are to guard against, by mak- 
ing the whole occupation of the day har- 
monize with that portion of it which is 
spent in public worship. And to do this 
implies no fanatical recluseness or morose 
sullenness. It implies nothing but the en- 
deavour of a reasonable man, who finds that 
the cares of the six days tend to distract his 
feelings from religion, to counteract them 
on the day set apart for that purpose. It is 
only saying with regard to all worldly occu- 
pations, what Burke said of politics in the 
pulpit ; — Six days are full of them, and six 
days are enough ; let us give one day to 
something better. 

You will therefore be careful so to spend 
your morning hours, that you shall enter 
the sanctuary with a prepared mind, — al- 
ready touched with a sense of God, and 
tuned to his praise. Your reading and 
your thoughts will be directed to this pur- 
pose ; and instead of cherishing or inviting 
vain thoughts and a light state of feeling, 
by lounging over a newspaper, or a novel, 



122 

or by conversation on the passing events of 
the day, you will occupy yourself on such 
subjects as shall hallow the temper of your 
mind, and exclude the crowd of impertinent 
desires. Then you will be ready to join 
feelingly in the public service of your Ma- 
ker, and listen profitably to the exhortations 
of the pulpit. 

You have doubtless observed in your 
own case, and heard it remarked by others, 
that the same discourse under different 
circumstances seems like a very different 
thing ; that what at one time is listened to 
with pleasure and interest, at another is 
heard with indifference. To what can this 
be owing, but to the variation in the hear- 
er's state of mind ? The discourse is the 
same ; but it addresses itself to a soul at 
one time tuned to the occasion and the sub- 
ject, and at another tuned to something else. 
So important is adaptation, — as might be 
illustrated in a thousand ways. Hence you 
will study to carry a prepared mind to the 
hearing of the word, that you may not fail 
of receiving the utmost edification. Other- 
wise you may sit under the most powerful 
ministry, and hear divine truth dispensed 



123 

with an eloquence worthy of angels, and yet 
sit unmoved. It can be powerful to your 
heart, it can effectually promote your pro- 
gress in the Christian life, only through 
your own preparation to receive it, and in 
proportion to that preparation. 

Let me also caution you to remember, 
that there is good and important matter 
belonging to every subject which the pulpit 
may treat ; and it is very unwise (to use the 
mildest expression) to turn away dissatisfied, 
because a sermon does not happen to fall in 
with the state of your feelings. Hearers 
are often guilty of great injustice in this 
way. They are too ready to measure the 
preacher's fidelity by the degree in which 
he speaks to their own immediate experi- 
ence. They are earnestly engaged in par- 
ticular views, feelings, trains of thought, 
processes of experience, which, filling their 
mind, seem to them all in all ; and if the 
preacher does not touch upon these, they 
condemn him as dry, cold, and jejune. 
But they should consider, that there are 
other minds to be suited besides their own, 
and that what is so ill adapted to themselves 
may be precisely what is needed by others ; 



124 

nay, precisely what they themselves may 
need at another time. Instead of expressing 
dissatisfaction, they should rejoice that every 
one receives in turn a portion adapted to 
him, and endeavour to elicit something ap- 
plicable to themselves. If they will but seek, 
they will often find a seasonable word when 
they least expect it. Let me entreat you to 
make this your habit. If you do not, it is 
plain that many Sundays will be lost to you 
(for you cannot have your own case always 
treated), and you will moreover become a 
fastidious and querulous hearer, discontented 
with yourself, and uncomfortable to others. 
But if you resolutely bring your mind to 
take an interest in whatever you hear, you 
will always find cause for contentment and 
satisfaction, if not for edification and de- 
light. 

Few things are more hostile to such at- 
tendance on preaching as shall promote reli- 
gious improvement, than the habit of listen- 
ing to sermons as literary or rhetorical efforts, 
and for the gratification of a literary taste. 
From the very nature of the case, it must 
result in constant dissatisfaction. For let it 
be considered how few of all the authors 



125 

who have published books, are able to give 
this gratification ; and can it then be ex- 
pected of every preacher 1 How small a 
proportion of the thousands who have preach- 
ed, have printed their sermons ; and how 
few of these have a place among the eminent 
names of literature. Hence it is impossible 
that every preacher should, every Sunday, 
satisfy a man who has formed his taste on 
printed specimens of excellence, and who 
comes to gratify it at church. It is inevitable 
that such a one should be disappointed and 
displeased far more often than he shall 
be tolerably gratified. Those who, on this 
ground, are accustomed to speak harshly 
of ministers and to excite discontent in the 
community, would do well to reflect on the 
unreasonableness of the requisition ; and 
learn that they injure themselves by looking 
for what they cannot expect to find, to 
the neglect of that substantial good which 
alone is intended to be conveyed. But he 
who thinks only of improvement and the re- 
ligious exercise of his mind, will always find 
something to engage and satisfy him. Dis- 
tinguished talent, there may not be, nor 
original thought, nor striking images, nor 



126 



tasteful composition, nor eloquent declama- 
tion ; but Christian truth, old and familiar 
perhaps, but still high and important, there 
always will be. Dwelling upon this, excited 
by it to reflection, occupied in studying by 
its light his own character and prospects, 
and the perfections and purposes of God, he 
has no lack of interesting thought. The 
preacher becomes but a secondary object. 
His God, his duty, his salvation, these are 
the topics on which his mind runs ; and 
these he can contemplate, he will not be 
hindered from contemplating them, what- 
ever may be the feebleness or deficiencies of 
him who ministers at the altar. 

Bacon has laid down a rule for profitable 
reading, which ought to be sacredly applied 
to preaching, by those who would listen to it 
profitably : ' Read, not to contradict and con- 
fute, nor to believe and take for granted, nor 
to find talk and discourse, but to weigh and 
consider.' What you hear from your min- 
ister, ' weigh and consider ' for a religious 
end and a personal application. To listen as 
a critic, with a fastidious nicety about dic- 
tion, and a captious sensibility to style, is a 
sure method to defeat what should be the 



127 

first object with the hearer, as it is the great 
purpose of the speaker. For which reason, 
it has been remarked, we are not to be sur- 
prised thatPaul, with all his energy of speech, 
made so few converts and gathered no church 
among the Athenians ; the sensitive and in- 
tellectual taste, and love of ingenious fancies, 
which distinguished them, formed a habit of 
mind peculiarly fitted to destroy the capaci- 
ty for receiving any strong and profound im- 
pressions. 

In the next place, if you think that when 
you leave the house of God, you may dis- 
charge from your mind the thoughts and 
sentiments there excited ; if you immediately 
join in frivolous society and ordinary conver- 
sation ; if you occupy your time in making 
visits of ceremony, or in reading the Sunday 
newspaper and books of amusement, you can 
derive little advantage from the service in 
which you have engaged. However serious 
may have been your attendance, however 
earnest the wish for improvement, you are 
taking the surest method to render it all vain. 
The word spoken must be treasured up, 
the counsels of wisdom must be made to 
abide in the heart, the instructions and 

H 



128 

warnings of Heaven must be fixed by reflec- 
tion and thought, or the impressions you 
have received will be transitory, and the good 
purposes which spring up within you will 
pass away like the early dew. If the preach- 
er have presented arguments for the truth of 
Christianity, or for the support of any of its 
great doctrines, of what use has this been to 
you, if you shall know nothing about them to- 
morrow? And how can you hope to remember 
what is so difficult to be retained, if you take 
no pains to refresh your mind with it by im- 
mediate retirement and contemplation ? If 
he have been urging you to the study of your 
own heart, and pointing out the sources .of 
self-deception, and the means of preservation 
against the sins which easily beset you, and 
you have been affected and humbled, and 
made to resolve on greater watchfulness ; of 
what avail will this be, if you immediately 
abandon yourself to frivolous topics of 
thought ? and how are you any the better 
prepared for the temptations and trials of 
to-morrow, if you thus drive from your mind 
those views which were to strengthen 
you ? Or if he have presented to you the 
elevating truths respecting God, and heaven, 



129 

and man's prospects of glory, and thus raised 
in your spirit a glow of divine love, and a 
sense of your exalted destiny, and you at 
once turn from it all to employments and 
thoughts which are wholly of earth ; then 
is not that holy excitement worse than lost ? 
have you not done something to harden your 
heart, and render it less capable of receiving 
the same impression again ? For you have re- 
sisted its motions, and quenched its fire, by 
calling it back to this lower world when it 
was just beginning to delight itself in heav- 
en. 

Depend upon it, that the mere attendance 
upon public worship is very insufficient, 
without some care to fix its impressions af- 
terward, and to recall and strengthen what 
you have heard and enjoyed. It is wise there- 
fore to go back from church to retirement, 
there to think over the truths that you have 
heard, refresh the feelings that you have in- 
dulged, apply to your conscience the doc- 
trine delivered, and supplicate the divine 
blessing. By habitually doing this, you will 
in time become possessed of a large fund 
of religious information and moral truth, 
which otherwise might have been lost to 



130 

you ; and instead of being in the condition 
of those, who cannot perceive that the pul- 
pit has ever taught them any thing, you 
will find it a most efficient and persuasive 
instructer. 

It is a custom with some persons, to make a 
record of the discourses which they have 
heard, entering in a book the texts and sub- 
jects, together with a brief sketch of the train 
of remark. This is a very commendable 
and useful custom, provided it be not allow- 
ed to take off one's thoughts from the duty 
of self-application, and do not become a 
mere effort of memory and trial of skill. If 
this be avoided, the practice will be found 
useful in many respects. The exercise of 
writing greatly assists that of thinking, and 
discovers to one whether his ideas are distinct 
and clear. It enables and compels him to 
look closely at the subject, so that he can- 
not dismiss it with the cursory and impatient 
examination which he might be otherwise 
tempted to give it. It enables him afterwards 
to read, with distinctness, the impressions 
which he received, and to revive the purpo- 
ses which he formed in consequence of them. 
His record becomes a spiritual monitor, re- 



131 

minding him, whenever he consults it, of the 
lessons he has learned, and the expostula- 
tions he has heard ; and prompting him to 
a more definite comparison of his actual at- 
tainments with the standard which has been 
placed before him. The advantages, which 
may thus be derived from it, will be far more 
than a compensation for all the trouble at- 
tending it. 

But whether you make such memoranda 
or not, the practice of recalling to mind the 
instructions and reflections of God's house, 
if systematically pursued, will save you from 
the pain of making the complaint which we 
hear from so many, that they cannot remem- 
ber what they have heard, oftentimes not even 
the text ; and this too from persons, who 
can repeat all the particulars of a long story 
to which they have listened, or a longer con- 
versation in which they have taken part. 
Why this difference ? Partly because they 
attended with greater interest to the story 
and the conversation, partly because these 
are more easily remembered than a formal 
discourse, but principally because these are 
matters that they are accustomed to recall 
to mind and repeat, which they have not been 
h2 



132 

accustomed to do in regard to sermons. The 
want of practice is the principal difficulty. 
Make it an object always to remember, and 
be in the habit of going over again in your 
mind, the principal topics, and you will not 
be troubled with want of memory. 

I should do wrong, however, if I did not here 
speak a word of comfort to those humble and 
sincere Christians, whose advantages in ear- 
ly life were not such as to enable them to 
form any habits of intellectual exertion, and 
who are in consequence subject to a weak- 
ness of memory, which they have struggled 
against in vain, and which is a source of con- 
stant unhappiness to them. Every thing 
they hear from the pulpit slips from their 
minds, even if it have highly moved and de- 
lighted them ; and they fear that this is a sign 
of unprofitableness and sin. To such it 
may be well to recommend the reply of John 
Newton to one who came to him sorrowing 
with the same complaint. You forget, said 
he, what was preached to you. So too you 
forget upon what food you dined a week or 
a month ago ; yet you are none the less 
sure that you received nourishment from it. 
And no doubt also that your spiritual food 



133 

nourished you, though you have forgotten 
in what it consisted. So long as you re- 
ceived it with pleasure and a healthy diges- 
tion, and it has kept you a living and grow- 
ing soul, it can be of no consequence wheth- 
er you can particularly remember it or not. 
Finally, preaching, however ineffectual it 
may often prove, is one the chief means of 
grace, and is capable of being made, by every 
individual, a principal agent in hL religious 
advancement. Let it be so to you. It will 
be so, if you attend on it in a right spirit, and 
faithfully strive to gain nourishment from it. 
Do not let it be your shame and guilt, that 
you sit year after year within hearing of the 
preacher's voice, and yet are none the better. 
Do not suffer it to be with yourself, as it 
is with many, that preaching grows less 
interesting as they advance. This, it is 
true, is in part owing to the nature of the 
mind, which finds a delight in what is new 
and fresh, which it does not perceive in what 
has been long familiar. There is a charm 
in listening to the word preached, when the 
soul is first awakened to an interest in the 
concerns of its salvation, and devours every 
sentence as a hungry man his food, which 
h3 



134 

cannot be fully retained in cooler and maturer 
years. But if the charm be entirely gone, if 
the relish be altogether lost, it must be through 
your own fault. It must be because you 
have not watched over the tastes and sus- 
ceptibility of your mind, but have, through 
neglect, suffered it to become hardened. Be 
but faithful to yourself, cherish your tender- 
ness of spirit, take pains to keep alive the 
ardor and interest of your younger days, 
and you will find that your feelings 
will not become wholly dead to the voice 
of the preacher, nor will time and age be 
able to rob you of this source of your enjoy- 
ment. The ancient philosopher, on whom 
has been well bestowed the title of i Rome's 
least mortal mind/ in writing beautifully of 
old age, tells us, that the great reason why 
the faculties of men are impaired in the de- 
clining years of a long life, is, that they 
cease to use and exercise them ; and that 
any man, by continuing vigorously to exert 
them as in earlier life, may hope to retain 
them to the last in something of their origi- 
nal power. The remark may be applied to 
the old age of the Christian. By faithfully 
watching over and exercising his feelings 



135 

and emotions, he may retain them in some 
good degree of liveliness and vigor to the 
latest period. And although the zest with 
which he hun^ on the ministration of the 
word in the first ardor of his youthful faith 
may be gone, he will maintain a sober inter- 
est and find a tranquil delight, suited to the 
serenity of his fading days, and to the peace- 
fulness of the expectation with which he 
waits the summons to go home. 

V. The Lord's Supper. 

This interesting rite is the last in the series 
of Christian means, which I shall mention. 
It is that to which the young disciple is 
accustomed to look forward with intense 
feeling, and the arrival at which consti- 
tutes an era in his progress fondly expected 
and fondly remembered. Sometimes it ap- 
pears to be regarded too much as the limit of 
improvement, the goal of the course, the prize 
of the victory, after which the believer is to 
sit down and enjoy in security the attain- 
ments he has made, exempt from the neces- 
sity of further watchfulness and combat. It 
is owing, in no small degree, to the prevalence 
of this opinion, that so many make no actual 

or perceptible progress after their arrival at 
h4 



136 



the Lord's table. They esteem it less 
as the means and incitement of greater im- 
provement, than as the end and completion of 
the work they had undertaken ; not so much 
a refreshment to their weakness in the trying 
journey of duty, as the festival which re- 
wards its termination. Be on your guard 
against this erroneous feeling. Habitually 
remember, that your vigilance and labor are 
to end only at the grave ; that the fight lasts 
as long as life ; that the crown of the victor 
is 'laid up in heaven'; and that whatever 
indulgences may be granted here, they are 
but as encouragements to your perseverance 
and strengthened to your weakness, design- 
ed to cheer and help you on your way ; not 
seasons of repose and enjoyment, but of re- 
collection and preparation ; — so that they in 
fact form a part of that system of discipline, 
by which every thing below is made to try 
and prove the character of man. 

In this light you will view the peculiar 
ordinance of our faith, — as a privilege and 
indulgence, but also as a pledge and incite- 
ment to activity in duty. From the moment 
that it has been your purpose to become a 
follower of Christ, you have looked forward 



137 



to this holy feast as something which it would 
make you but too blest to be permitted to 
partake. While occupied with other means of 
improvement, you have still felt that there 
was one thing lacking, and have perhaps 
been stimulated to a more earnest dili- 
gence in the use of them, by the reflection 
that they would prepare you for this ultimate 
and superior enjoyment. Such is the very 
common experience of the growing Chris- 
tian ; and it is my wish to show you how 
that may be rendered a blessing in the en- 
joyment, which has been so eagerly desired 
in the anticipation. 

Settle it distinctly in your mind, that this 
ordinance, so far as relates to your concern in 
it, has a twofold purpose : first, to express and 
manifest your faith in Christ, and your alle- 
giance and attachment to him ; secondly, to 
aid and strengthen you in a faithful adherence 
to his religion. That is to say, in other 
words, by your attendance at the Lord's ta- 
ble you declare yourself to be, from principle 
and affection, a Christian ; and you seek to 
revive and confirm the sentiments, purposes, 
and habits, which belong to that character. 
These are the two objects which the ordi- 



i 



138 

nance is intended to accomplish, and which 
you are to have constantly in view. 

By considering the first of these, you will 
be enabled to decide how soon, and at what 
period, you ought to offer yourself for this 
celebration. Can you say, that you are in 
principle and affection a follower of Jesus 
Christ ? This is the question you are to put 
to yourself: not whether you have been such 
for a long time ; not how great attainments 
you have made ; — but, are you such at 
heart, and are you resolved perseveringly to 
maintain this character? Look at this ques- 
tion. Ponder its meaning. Put it to your- 
self faithfully. Do nothing with haste or 
rashness, but proceed calmly and deliberate- 
ly. Then, if you can conscientiously reply 
in the affirmative, if you have already show- 
ed so much constancy in your efforts, that 
you may rationally hope to persevere, you 
may make your profession before men, and 
take the promised blessing. Hasty minds 
have sometimes rushed forward too soon, and 
only exposed their own instability, and 
brought dishonor on their calling. Be not 
therefore hasty. But timid men have some- 
times hesitated too long ; have delayed till 



139 

their ardor cooled, till they fancied they 
could stand and flourish without any further 
help, till death or age overtook them, and 
they were called to meet their Lord without 
having confessed him before men. Beware 
therefore, that you delay not too long. To 
deliberate whether we shall observe a com- 
mandment after our minds are impressed 
with a sense of the duty of doing so, is to 
break it. To postpone our acceptance of a 
privilege, when we feel that it is such, and 
know that it is offered to ourselves, is to re- 
fuse it, and to forego its benefits. He who 
believes, and is resolved to live and die in 
his belief, has a right to this ordinance ; he 
is under his Master's orders to attend it ; 
and he should reflect, that obedience, to be 
acceptable, should be prompt. 

As soon, therefore, as your attention to re- 
ligious things has sufficiently prepared and 
settled your mind, you will solemnly ac- 
knowledge it by this outward testimonial of 
faith. So far the ordinance looks to the 
past. It also looks to the future ; and you 
will, secondly, as I said, use it as a salutary 
means of religious growth, appointed to this 
end, and singularly suited to accomplish it. 



140 

You will regard it, and attend it, as one of 
the appropriate instruments by which you 
are to keep alive, and carry on to perfection, 
that principle of spiritual life, which has had 
birth within you, and has made a certain 
progress toward maturity. 

It is a means singularly fitted to accom- 
plish this end, because it is an ordinance at 
once so affecting and so comprehensive. 
Affecting, by bringing directly before us, 
in one collected view, the circumstances un- 
der which it was instituted, and the purpo- 
ses of Heaven with which it is connected ; — 
the trials and sufferings of the Son of man, 
the meekness and sublimity of his submis- 
sion, the tenderness and pathos of his last con- 
versation and prayers, the desertion in which 
he was left by his disciples, the insults to 
which he was exposed from his enemies, the 
torture in which he died, submissive and for- 
giving ; and all this, that he might seal the 
truth which he had taught, and provide sal- 
vation for miserable men. It is true that 
all this is familiar to the mind, and often 
brought before it in other acts of worship. 
But here it forms the express subject of con- 
templation and prayer. Here it is set be- 



141 

fore us more evidently and vividly by the 
circumstances, the forms, the apparatus of 
the occasion. It is made the special object of 
regard, and therefore is suited, in a pecul- 
iar manner, to affect us. 

But it has another advantage. It is as 
comprehensive as it is affecting. In its 
primitive intention, in its simple purpose, it 
is, as it was designated by our Lord him- 
self, a commemoration of him : ' This do in 
remembrance of me.' And what is it to 
remember Jesus, rightly and effectually, but 
to call to mind all that he was, and did, and 
suffered, in his own person ; and all the 
blessings, advantages, and hopes, which have 
resulted, and shall for ever result, to us, from 
his ministry and death ? These are all 
connected together by one close and indis- 
soluble chain. They are united, in insepa- 
rable union, with his name and memory. 
When we reflect on our Master, our minds 
cannot pause till they have gone over all his 
example in life and death, have recalled 
his character and instructions, pondered on 
the excellence and beauty of his truths, the 
glory of his promises, the bliss of his inheri- 
tance. Thence they will pass on to survey the 



142 

effects which he has already produced on 
the condition and character of the world, to 
observe the contrast of our present enviable 
lot with what it would have been if he had not 
established his reign among men, and to 
contemplate the spreading prospects of hu- 
man felicity in the wider extension of his 
kingdom ; — the removal of error, corrup- 
tion, ignorance, and sin, and the establish- 
ment of universal truth, righteousness, know- 
ledge, and peace. Thence they will pass on 
to a future world ; to the unseen and unim- 
aginable joys of a life in which purity, love, 
and happiness shall be infinite in measure and 
infinite in duration, and where man, made 
the companion of angels, freed from sin and 
from suffering, shall dwell in the light of 
God's presence without end. We shall re- 
collect, that for all our hope of acceptance 
to that world, and of pardon for the sins 
which have made us unworthy of it ; for all 
those gifts of light and strength which shall 
prepare us for it ; for all the tranquillity, 
consolation, and support, which in weakness, 
sorrow, and death, the knowledge of our im- 
mortality imparts, — -for these we are indebted 
to Christ ; without whom we should still have 



143 

remained ignorant on this first of subjects, 
and unconsoled in the severest trials. So 
that, in one word, there is no topic of reli- 
gion, none of thanksgiving or prayer, none 
of penitence, gratitude, or hope, none of 
present or of future felicity for ourselves or 
for others, which is not called up to the mind 
by the faithful use of this simple but expres- 
sive service. As the believer sits at his Mas- 
ter's table, he seems to himself to be sitting 
in his presence ; together with his image, ev- 
ery blessing of his faith and hope rises bright- 
ly to view ; and his heart burns within him, as 
he contemplates the grace with which his un- 
worthy spirit has been visited, and realizes the 
hope that he shall partake in his own person 
of the glories which his Lord revealed. As 
he looks unto him, c the author and finisher 
of our faith, who, for the joy set before him, 
endured the cross, despising the shame/ he 
grows strong to do and endure likewise, ani- 
mated by the hope set before him of enter- 
ing into the joy to which his crucified Master 
has ascended. 

Is it not then evident, that you have here a 
means, of singular power, to keep the at- 
tention awake and the heart right ; and 



144 

that your spirit can hardly slumber, if 
you faithfully open it to the influen- 
ces of this observance ? Remember, how- 
ever, that its value will depend on yourself, 
and the manner in which you engage in it. 
It has no mystical charm, no secret and 
magic power, to bless you against your will. 
Every thing depends on your own sincerity 
and devotion. Earnestly desire, and pray, 
and endeavour that it may do you good, and 
it will do you good. Go to it heedless, 
thoughtless, and unprepared, and it will 
prove to you an idle and inefficient ceremo- 
ny. The great cause why so many derive 
no improvement from the repeated perform- 
ance of the duty, is, that they attend it with 
inconsideration and coldness, and with little 
purpose or desire of being affected by it. 
Let your attendance be in a different state 
of mind. Engage resolutely in the suitable 
meditations ; examine yourself before and 
after ; come to the celebration with a tem- 
per prepared for worship, and leave it with 
one prepared for duty. 

There is a peculiar feature in the mode 
of administering this ordinance, distinguish- 
ing it from all other acts of social worship, 



145 

to which it may be well to advert. I refer" 
to the pauses during its administration, when 
each worshipper is left to himself, to follow 
his own reflections, and make his own 
prayers. There are thus united in the oc- 
casion some of the advantages both of social 
and of private devotion. When you have 
been excited by the voice of the minister 
and of general prayer, you are permitted to 
retire without interference into your own 
heart, to repeat the petitions and confessions 
with a more close reference to your own case, 
and to make yourself certain that you under- 
stand and feel the service in which you are 
engaged. You may find a great advantage 
in these silent opportunities. In all other 
instances of social worship, your attention is 
required without ceasing to some external 
process ; and you pass on from one part of 
the service to another, with little opportunity 
to reflect, as you proceed, or to pursue the 
suggestions which are made, in the manner 
that your own peculiar condition may re- 
quire. But now the opportunity exists for 
thoroughly applying to your own personal 
state all that has met your ear, and for pour- 
ing out freely the devotional feeling which 



i.:, 



146 



has been excited. And if there be any thing 
favorable to the soul, as multitudes of devout 
persons have insisted, in occasions for con- 
templative worship in the presence of other 
men, then in this respect the Lord's supper 
may claim a superiority over every other 
occasion of social devotion. 

Many persons, I am aware, find it difficult 
so to control their minds as to render these 
silent moments profitable. But to such per- 
sons the very difficulty becomes a useful 
discipline, and the occasion should be valued 
for the sake of it. To aid them in the use 
of it, and to prevent its running to waste in 
miserable listlessness and idle rovings of 
the mind, it might be well that they should 
have with them some suitable little book of 
meditations and reflections, which they may 
quietly consult in their seats as guides to 
thought and devotion. 

In a word, prepare your mind beforehand, 
be faithful during the celebration, review it 
when it is past, and you will never have rea- 
son to complain of its inefficacy as a means 
of religious improvement. You may not en- 
joy high and mystical raptures ; you may be 
sometimes overtaken with languor and cold- 



147 

ness ; but as long as in sincerity, and from 
motives of duty, you present yourself in this 
way before the Lord, you will find that there 
is refreshment and encouragement in the 
act. You will have in it satisfaction, if not 
ecstasy ; and will never doubt that something 
of the steadfastness of your principle, and of 
the vigor of your hope, is owing to this affec- 
tionate application of the life, example, and 
sacrifice of the Saviour, in the way of his ap- 
pointment. 



i 



148 



I 



CHAPTER V. 

THE RELIGIOUS DISCIPLINE OF LIFE. 

Next to the means to be employed in the 
promotion of personal religion, we must at- 
tend to the oversight and direction of the 
character in general. The means of which 
we have taken notice, consist of a series of 
special and stated exercises, whose object is 
to prepare us for the right conduct of actual 
life ; and they may be compared to the daily 
drill of the soldier, by which he is made 
ready for the field. Watchfulness and self- 
discipline belong to all times and occasions, 
and may be compared to the actual use 
which the soldier makes of his preparation in 
the camp and the field. The Christian is 
engaged occasionally in prayer, meditation, 
study, and the communion ; he must watch 
and govern himself always. To the former du- 
ties he devotes certain appropriate seasons; 
the latter belong to every season and all hours. 
The former constitute his preparation for 



149 

the Christian life ; the latter constitute its 
pervading spirit. No punctuality or fidelity 
in the former proves a man to be religious 
without the latter. And therefore, having 
stated the manner in which these means are 
to be used, it is necessary for us to go on and 
show how they are to affect the whole con- 
duct of life, and make it an exercise of per- 
petual self-discipline. 

Why you are to be always watchful over 
yourself, is easily perceived. In this world 
of sensible objects and temporal pursuits, you 
are constantly exposed to have your thoughts 
absorbed by surrounding things, and with- 
drawn from the spiritual objects to which 
they should be primarily attached. You are 
incited to forget them, to slight them, to 
counteract them. The engagements, the 
anxiety, hurry, and pleasures of life, thrust 
them from your thoughts ; and desires, pro- 
pensities, passions are excited, quite incon- 
sistent with the calm and heavenward 
affections of Christ. All these tendencies 
in your situation are to be resisted. You 
are to be ever on the alert, that they may 
not lead you into any course of thought or of 
action at variance with the principles to 
i2 



I 



150 

which you are pledged as a believer in Jesus 
Christ, and which form your delight in your 
hours of devotional enjoyment. Such incon- 
sistency may be sometimes witnessed. But 
what can be more melancholy, than to see a 
rational being, deeply convinced of the 
truths of religion, in his sober hours of 
thought dwelling on them with fond and 
delighted contemplation, excited by them to 
a devout ardor of communion with God, and 
sometimes to a glow of holy rapture which 
seems to belong to a superior nature ; — and 
then sinking into worldliness, governing 
himself in ordinary life by selfish maxims of 
temporal interest, obeying the passions and 
propensities of his animal being, and, in a 
word, living precisely as he would do, did he 
believe that there is nothing higher or better 
than this poor life. I ask, what can be more 
sad or pitiable than such a spectacle. Let 
it be your earnest care to guard against so 
deplorable an inconsistency. Now, while 
your mind is warm with its early interest in 
divine things, — now, while they press upon 
you in all their freshness, — now, take heed 
that you do not concentrate that interest and 
use all its strength, in the luxury of devout 



151 

musing, or the excitements of study and de- 
votion ; but carry it into your whole life, let 
it be always present to you in all you do, in 
all you say ; let it form your habitual state of 
feeling, your customary frame of mind and 
temper. Make it your constant study, that 
nothing shall be inconsistent with it, but 
every thing partake of its power. This is 
the watchfulness, in which you must live. 
This is the purpose for which you must ex- 
ercise over yourself an unremitting and ever 
wakeful discipline ; seeing to it, like some 
magistrate over a city, or some commander 
over an army, that all your thoughts, dispo- 
sitions, words, and actions be subject to the 
law of God, and the principles of the Chris- 
tian faith. 

Thus it is plain that your chief business 
as well as your great trial, in forming a 
Christian character, lies in the ordinary tenor 
of life. The world is the theatre on which 
you are to prove yourself a Christian. It is 
in the occurrences of every day, in the rela- 
tions of every hour, in your affairs, in your 
family, in your conversation with those 
around you, in your treatment of them, and 
your reception of their treatment ; — it is in 
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152 



these, that you are to cultivate and perfect 
the character of a child of God which you are 
called to form. It is in these, that your pas- 
sions are exercised, and your government of 
them proved ; in these, that your command 
over that unruly member, the tongue, is made 
known ; in these, that temptations to wrong 
doing and evil speaking beset you, and that 
you are to apply your religious principle in 
resisting them. In these it is, consequently, 
that you discover whether your principle is 
real and genuine, or whether it lies only in 
feeling and in words. In the quiet of your 
chamber, in the devout solitude of your 
closet, when the world is shut out, and your 
solemnized spirit feels itself alone with God, 
you may be so exalted by communion with 
Heaven, and by meditation on heavenly truth, 
that all things earthly shall seem worthless 
and paltry, and every desire be set upon 
things above. How often, at such times, 
does it appear as if the world had no longer 
any charms, as if its pleasures and pomp 
could never again entice or delight us. Our 
souls are above them. We have no more 
relish for them than have the angels. And 
if this were all which is required of us, if 



153 



nothing opposed to this delightful frame of 
mind were ever to cross our path, the Chris- 
tian prize would be already won. But alas, 
in the closet, and in the third heaven of con- 
templation, we can live but a small portion 
of the time. We must come down from the 
mount. We must enter the crowd and dis- 
tractions of common life. We must engage 
in common and secular affairs. And there, 
how much do we encounter that is opposed 
to the calm and serene spirit of our contem- 
plative hours ! how much to irritate and 
disturb our quiet self-possession ! how much 
to drive from our thoughts the subjects on 
which we have been musing ! how much to 
revive the relish for transient pleasures and 
worldly enjoyments, and a love for the things 
which minister gratification to pride and to 
the senses ! In the midst of these things, 
dangerous, enticing, seductive, you are to 
live and walk unchanged, unseduced, lin- 
defiled ; your heart true to its Master, your 
spirit firm in its allegiance to God, and your 
soul as truly devout and humble as when 
worshipping at the altar. Is this easy ? I will 
not ask ; but, is it not your great, your par- 
amount, trial 1 Is it not here, that the very 
i4 



I 



154 

battle of your soul's salvation is to be fought? 
Is not this, as I said, the very field of actual 
and decisive war, the very seat of the 
fearful and final campaign ? And the prayers 
and studies, and observances of your more 
special devotion, are they not the buckling 
on of the armour, and the refreshing and pre- 
paring of the soul for its real combat ? 

You perceive then, how the Christian life 
must consist in watchfulness and self-disci- 
pline ; how it must be your great business 
to keep a faithful guard over yourself, that 
both in mind and conduct nothing may exist 
contrary to the spirit and precepts of Jesus 
Christ. 

First of all, this guard is to be placed 
upon the Mind. It is an intellectual, inter- 
nal, spiritual discipline ; the oversight and 
management of the thoughts and affections. 

There is a superficial religion, not unpop- 
ular in the world, which is limited to the 
outward conduct and the external relations 
of life ; which is made to consist exclusively 
in rectitude of behaviour and uprightness 
of dealing. Into this error you are not like- 
ly to fall, if you learn your religion from the 
New Testament ; and I should not have 



155 

thought it needful to warn you against it, 
had it not been so prevalent. Nothing but 
its commonness could render it credible, 
that men who possess the Scriptures, and 
fancy they understand them, or who are 
simply capable of observation on the nature 
of man and of happiness, should persuade 
themselves that the character which God 
demands and will bless, is independent of 
the state of the mind and the frame of the 
affections. Is it not the mind which con- 
stitutes the man ? Is it not the mind which 
gives its moral complexion to the conduct 1 
Is it not certain that the same conduct which 
we applaud as indicating an upright charac- 
ter, we should disapprove and condemn on 
discovering that it proceeded from base and 
improper motives ? So that even men judge 
of character rather by the principle which 
actuates, than by the actions themselves. 
How much more completely would this be 
the case, if, instead of being obliged to infer 
the principle from the act, they could discern 
the principle itself as it lies in the mind of 
the agent ! Who in that case would ever 
judge a man by his actions alone ? Who 
would not always decide respecting his 



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character from the principles and motives 
which guided him, — his thoughts, disposi- 
tions, and habitual temper ? And thus it is 
that the Deity judges and decides. He 
looks not on the outward appearance, but on 
the heart. Consequently, how obvious is 
the position, that, in seeking the Christian 
character, the first and most diligent watch 
must be placed over the inner man. ' Keep 
thy heart with all diligence ; for out of it 
are the issues of life/ 

This implies several things. First, a 
careful guard over the Thoughts. It is in 
the heedless disregard of the thoughts, 
that corruption often takes its rise. They 
are suffered to wander without restraint, to 
attach themselves without check to any ob- 
jects which attract the senses, or are suggest- 
ed in conversation, and to rove uncontrolled 
from one end of the world to another. How 
many hours are thus wasted in unprofitable 
musing, which leaves no impression behind ! 
How much of life is made an absolute blank ! 
Worse still, how often do sinful fancies, sen- 
sual images, unlawful desires, take advan- 
tage of this negligence to insinuate them- 
selves into the mind, and make to themselves 



157 

a home there, polluting the chambers of the 
soul, and rendering purity unwelcome ! This 
is the beginning of evil with many a one, 
who, from this want of vigilance over the 
course of his thoughts, has surrendered him- 
self to frivolity and sensuality, without being 
aware that he was in peril. Thoughtlessness, 
mere thoughtlessness, has left the door open 
to sin, and the same thoughtlessness prevents 
the detection of the intruder. 

You may fancy that your present prefer- 
ence for profitable subjects of thought, is 
such that you are in no danger from this 
source. But beware of trusting to any pre- 
sent disposition. If you become confident, 
you will fall ; and the rather, because the 
beginning of this peril is so subtle and sly. 
Believe that the danger is real and imminent, 
or it is scarcely possible that you should not 
suffer from it. You may not indeed fall a 
victim to irregular desires and hurtful im- 
moralities ; but the habit of unwatched 
thought will weaken your control over your 
mind, will diminish your power of self-gov- 
ernment, and rob you of that vigorous self- 
possession, alive to every occasion, and 
prompt at every call, which forms the de- 



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cision of character that ought to belong to 
him who professes to follow the energetic 
principles of Christian morality. So that if 
you would be saved from an unbecoming 
weakness of mind, and its possible, not to 
say probable, consequences, ungoverned de- 
sires and passions, keep a guard upon your 
thoughts. Let your morning and evening 
prayer be, that you may live thoughtfully. 
And when, in the business of the day, your 
hands are occupied, but your mind free to 
think, keep yourself attentive to your 
thoughts. Inquire frequently how they are 
engaged. Direct them to useful and inno- 
cent subjects. Think over the books you 
have been reading ; rehearse to yourself the 
knowledge you have gained ; call up the 
sermons you have heard ; repeat the pas- 
sages of scripture you know. By methods 
like these, take care that even your empty 
hours minister to your improvement. Paley 
has truly observed, that every man has some 
favorite subject to which his mind spontane- 
ously turns at every interval of leisure ; and 
that with the devout man the subject is God. 
Hence the watching over your thoughts fur- 
nishes you with a ready test of your religious 



159 

condition ; it exposes to you the first and 
faintest symptoms of religious decline, and 
enables you to apply an immediate remedy. 
If the thoughts, which may be expressed 
in words, are to be thus guarded, the Tem- 
per and Feelings, which are often so indefi- 
nable in language, require a no less anxious 
guardianship. In the perplexities and trials 
of daily life, in the conflict with the various 
tempers and frequently perverse dispositions 
of those around us, in the little crosses, the 
petty disappointments, the trifling ills which 
are our perpetual lot, we are exposed to lose 
that calm equanimity of mind which the 
Christian should habitually possess. We 
are liable to be ruffled and irritated, and 
to feel and display another spirit than that 
gentleness which bears all things and is 
not easily provoked. The selfishness of 
some, the obstinacy of others, the pride 
of our neighbour, the heedlessness of our 
children, and the unfaithfulness of our 
dependents, tire our patience, and disturb 
our self-possession ; while bodily infir- 
mity and disordered nerves magnify insig- 
nificant inconveniences into serious evils, 
and irritate to peevishness and discontent 



I 



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the temper which duty calls to cheerfulness 
and submission. Some are blessed with a na- 
tive quietness of temperament which hardly 
feels these hourly vexations. But of some they 
form the great trial, and peculiar cross ; 
they can bear any thing better. And to all 
persons they constitute an exposure full of 
hazard, and demanding cautious vigilance. 
The very spirit and essential traits of the 
Christian character require watchfulness 
against them, and imply conquest over them. 
The humility, meekness, forbearance, gentle- 
ness, and love of peace; the long-suffering, 
the patience, the serenity, which form so love- 
ly a combination, which portray a character 
that no one can fail to admire and love ; — 
these are to be maintained only by much 
and persevering watchfulness. 

Without this, the most equable disposition 
by nature may become irritable and unhappy. 
With it, under the authority and guidance 
of Christian faith, the most unfortunate na- 
tural temper is subdued to the gentleness of 
the lamb. Without it, the internal condi- 
tion of man is restless, rebellious, full of 
wretchedness, having no peace in itself and 
enjoying nothing around. With it, the as- 



161 

pect of the world becomes changed ; every 
thing is bearable if not pleasant ; the sweet 
light which beams within, shines on all 
without, making pleasant the aspect of all 
men, and smoothing the roughnesses of all 
affairs. Who does not know how much the 
events of life take their hue from the state 
of the disposition ? To the proud, suspi- 
cious, and jealous, every man seems an in- 
truder, every gesture an insult, and every 
event a cause of vexation and wrath. To 
the self-governed and amiable, every thing is 
tolerable, and he feels nothing of the incon- 
veniences which make the misery of the 
other. One's happiness, therefore, as well 
as duty, requires this control of the disposi- 
tion. And when the Saviour pronounced 
his benediction on the pure, peaceful, hum- 
ble-minded, and meek> he taught, not only 
the great requisite of his spiritual kingdom, 
but the great secret of human felicity. 

When the frame of your mind is thus a 
constant care, you will find little difficulty 
in the control of the Appetites. These things 
are connected together ; and an ascendency 
over the former being secured, the subjection 
of the latter easily follows. But take good 



I 



162 

heed that it does follow. Do not be thought- 
less about it, because you fancy that it will 
of course accompany a regulated mind. 
Otherwise it is here that corruption may 
begin. The enemy will enter at any place, 
however improbable, which shall be left un- 
guarded. And it only needs that the body 
become disordered through the immoderate 
indulgence of the appetites, to raise a re- 
bellion throughout the whole moral system ; 
or, to speak more plainly, this indulgence 
will create cloudiness of mind, indisposition 
to thought, activity, and duty, irritability of 
temper, sluggishness of devotional feeling, 
and at length a general spiritual lethargy. 
There can be little doubt, that much of our 
dulness of apprehension and deadness of feel- 
ing on spiritual topics, as well as our strange 
sensibility to minor trials, is owing to a de- 
rangement of the animal economy, which 
is again owing to want of moderation in 
gratifying our animal desires. Hence there 
was some reason in the abstinence and fast- 
ings of religious men in ancient times ; and 
if we valued sufficiently, what they perhaps 
valued superstitiously, — serenity and bright- 
ness of mind, an equal temper, and a per- 



163 

petual aptitude for spiritual contemplation ; 
we should imitate them more, if not in their 
fastings, yet certainly in their temperance. 
At any rate, ' let your moderation be known 
unto all men. 5 For temperance is not only 
the observance of an express injunction, but 
is essential to that quietness and self-control 
which should mark the religious character. 
The next exercise of self-discipline will be 
in Conversation. Conversation, while it is 
a chief source of improvement and pleasure, 
is also a scene of peculiar trial, and the 
occasion of much sin. One might suppose 
that few persons ever dream that they are 
accountable for what passes in conversation, 
although there is no point of ordinary life 
which Jesus and the Apostles have more 
frequently and sternly put under the control 
of religious principle. Their language is 
strikingly urgent on this head ; and yet, so 
little scrupulousness is there among men, 
even religious men, that it would seem as if 
they felt ashamed to be careful in their talk. 
A thoroughly well-governed speech is so rare, 
that we still say in the words of James, ' If 
any man offend not in word, the same is a 
perfect man.' 

K 



i 



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164 

Do not allow yourself to be off your guard 
in this respect. Make it a part of your busi- 
ness, by a cautious prudence, to have your 
speech consistent with the rest of your char- 
acter. Do not flatter yourself that your 
thoughts are under due control, your desires 
properly regulated, or your dispositions sub- 
ject as they should be to Christian principle, 
if your intercourse with others consists 
mainly of frivolous gossip, impertinent an- 
ecdotes, speculations on the character and 
affairs of your neighbours, the repetition of 
former conversations, or a discussion of the 
current petty scandal of society. Much less 
if you allow yourself in careless exaggera- 
tion on all these points, and that grievous 
inattention to exact truth which is apt 
to attend the statements of those whose 
conversation is made up of these mate- 
rials. Give no countenance to this lament- 
able departure from charity and veracity, 
which, it is mortifying to observe, commonly 
marks the every-day gossip of the world. 
Let precision in every statement distinguish 
what you say, remembering that a little lie 
or a little uncharitableness, is no better than 
a little theft. Be slow to speak those re- 



165 



ports to another's disadvantage, which find 
so ready a circulation and are so eagerly be- 
lieved, though every day's experience shows 
us that a large proportion of them are un- 
founded and false. In a word, be convinced 
that levity, uncharitableness, and falsehood, 
are as truly immoral and irreligious in the 
common intercourse of life, as on its more 
solemn occasions ; that idle and injurious 
words make a part of man's responsible 
character, as really as blasphemy and idola- 
try ; and that c if any man seem to be reli- 
gious, and bridle not his tongue, that man's 
religion is vain.' 

6 A word spoken in season, how good it 
is ! ' Why should you not do all in your 
power to elevate the tone of conversation, 
and render the intercourse of man with man 
more rational and profitable 1 Let your 
example of cheerful, innocent, blameless 
words, in which neither folly nor austerity 
shall find place, exhibit the uprightness and 
purity of a mind, controlled by habitual 
principle, and be a recommendation of the 
religion you profess. Let the authority of 
that faith to which you subject every other 
department of your character, be extended 



166 



to those moments, not the least important, 
in which you exercise the peculiar capacity 
of a rational being in the interchange of 
thought. Never let it be said of your tongue, 
which Watts has truly called ' the glory of 
our frame/ that with it you bless God, and 
at the same time make its habitual careless- 
ness a curse to men, who are formed in the 
similitude of God. 

The influence of the principle which 
rules within, should thus be seen in all your 
deportment and intercourse, on every occa- 
sion and in every relation. Your outward 
life should be but the manifestation and ex- 
pression of the temper which prevails with- 
in, the acting-out of the sentiments which 
abide there ; so that all who see you may 
understand, without your saying it in words, 
how supreme with you is the authority of 
conscience, how reverent your attachment 
to truth, how sacred your adherence to du- 
ty, how full of good-will to men, and how 
devoutly submissive to God, the habitual 
tenor of your mind. Your spontaneous, 
unconstrained action, flowing without effort 
from your feelings amid the events of every 
day, should be the unavoidable expression 



167 

of a spirit imbued with high and heaven- 
ward desires ; so that as in the case of the 
Apostles, those who saw them, ' took knowl- 
edge of them that they had been with Je- 
sus/ it may in like manner be obvious 
with regard to yourself. And this may 
be without any obtrusive display on your 
part, without asking for observation, without 
either saying or hinting, ' Come, see my 
zeal for the Lord/ The reign of a good 
principle in the soul carries its own evi- 
dence in the life, just as that of a good gov- 
ernment is visible on the face of society. A 
man of a disinterested and pious mind, bears 
the signature of it in his whole deportment. 
His Lord's mark is on his forehead. We 
may say of his inward principle, which an 
Apostle has called ' Christ formed within 
us/ as was said of Christ himself during his 
beneficent ministry ; — It ' cannot be hid.' 
There is an atmosphere of excellence about 
such a man, which gives savour of his good- 
ness to all who approach, and through which 
the internal light of his soul beams out up- 
on all observers. Consequently, if you al- 
low yourself in a deportment inconsistent 
with Christian uprightness, propriety, and 
k2 



168 



charity, you are guilty of bringing contra- 
diction and disgrace on the principles 
which you profess ; you expose yourself to 
the charge of hypocritically maintaining 
truths to which you do not conform your- 
self. You dishonor your religion by caus- 
ing it to appear unequal to that dominion 
over the human character which it claims 
to exert. All men know that if i the sal- 
vation reigned within/ it would regulate the 
movements of the life as surely as the internal 
motions of the watch are indicated on its 
face ; if the hands point wrong, they know, 
without looking further, that there is disorder 
within. That disorder they will attribute 
either to the incapacity of the principle, or 
to your unfaithfulness in applying it. But 
what is of far greater importance, the holy 
and unerring judgment of God will ascribe 
it to the single cause of your own un- 
faithfulness ; and for all your wanderings 
from Christian constancy, and all the con- 
sequent dishonor to the Christian name, you 
must bear the shame and reproach in the 
final day of account. 

You perceive how urgent is the call for 
perpetual watchfulness and rigid self-disci- 



169 



pline. It is not easy, with much inten- 
tional guard over yourself, to keep the 
spirit habitually right in this giddy and 
tempting world ; and it is equally difficult 
to maintain a perfect coincidence between 
the principle within and the deportment of 
daily life. Oftentimes, in the emergencies 
and hurry of business, pleasure, and society, 
where many things concur to drown the voice 
of the spirit within, we find the lower pro- 
pensities and affections of our nature gain- 
ing an ascendency, and the law in our mem- 
bers rising in rebellion against the law in 
our mind. ( The things that we would, we 
do not, and the things that we would not, 
those we do ' ; and sense and passion tri- 
umph for the moment over reason and faith. 
' The flesh lusteth against the spirit, and 
the spirit against the flesh, and these are 
contrary the one to the other.' And how 
shall we gain the victory in this perpetual 
contest ? ' Through our Lord Jesus Christ,' 
says the Apostle; and the means thereto 
are found in his injunction, ' Watch and 
pray, that ye enter not into temptation.' 
Vigilance over every hour and in every en- 
gagement, carrying into them the shield of 
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I 



170 

faith and the whole armour of God ; and 
prayer, without ceasing, that your soul may 
be strong to wield them ; — these will secure 
to you the victory. Sometimes you will 
find yourself in perplexities and straits, 
sometimes faultering and irresolute ; but 
never forsaken or cast down, never exposed 
to temptation which you are unable to bear, 
or from which there is no way of escape. 
You may 'do all things through Christ 
who strengthened you.' 

I have thus spoken of that religious dis- 
cipline of daily life, in which the Christian 
character is formed and tried. It will be 
sufficient to add in conclusion, that your 
great concern must be with two things, — 
your principles, and your habits. 

First, you must constantly have an eye 
to your Principles. Take care that they 
be kept pure, and that you abide by them. 
They have been well compared to the com- 
pass of the ship, on which if the helmsman 
keeps a faithful eye, and resolutely steers 
by it in spite of the opposition of winds and 
waves, he will find the way to his port ; but 
by heedless inattention to it he is sure" to 
go astray, and be blown whither he would 



171 

not. Be assured that it is only by adher- 
ence to principle, in resolute defiance of 
inclination, opposition, present interest, 
and worldly solicitation, that you can en- 
sure the steady progress of your soul, and 
its final arrival in heaven. Neglect it, and 
you are at the mercy of circumstances, 
tossed helpless on the waters of chance, 
exposed to the buffetings of temptation with- 
out the power of resistance, and a sure prey 
of the destroyer. You must find your safety 
in the strength of your principle ; and that 
strength lies in the original power of con- 
science, and the added authority of the di- 
vine word. Herein is the ' still small voice ' 
of heaven ; and he that will ' cover his face ' 
from the world and obediently listen to it, 
may become morally omnipotent. 

Secondly, have an eye to your Habits. 
Add to the authority of principle the vigor 
and steadfastness of confirmed habit, and 
your religious character becomes almost 
impregnable to assault. It in no danger 
of overthrow, except from the most cunning 
assailants in a season of your most culpa- 
ble negligence. What wisdom and kind- 
ness has the Creator displayed in our con- 



i 



172 

stitution, that we are able to rear around our 
virtue the strong bulwark of habit ! It is a 
defence of the weakest spirit against the 
strongest trial. Through the power of hab- 
its early formed, how many have stood in 
exposed places, and been unaffected by so- 
licitations to sin, beneath which others have 
fallen, who trusted to their good purposes, 
but had never confirmed and invigorated 
them in action. How often, for example, 
has the young man from a retired situation, 
— educated in the bosom of a virtuous fami- 
ly, and under the eye of a watchful father, 
thence sent forth to the new scenes of a 
city life under the protection of good prin- 
ciples and a sincere purpose to do well, — 
been found weak and wanting in the expo- 
sure, and been carried away headlong by 
the tide of temptation, because his early hab- 
its were suited only for seclusion, and his 
principles were guarded by none which could 
secure them against the novel assaults that 
were made upon them. While on the other 
hand, young men brought up in the midst of 
these solicitations to sin, with far less incul- 
cation of principle, are oftentimes enabled, 
through the mere strength which habit im- 



173 

parts, to resist them all, and live in the 
midst of them as if they were not. 

It cannot be necessary to multiply exam- 
ples. You well know what a slave man is 
to his habitual indulgences, and how the 
customary routine of his life and methods 
of employment tyrannize over him, and how 
frequently one strives in vain to free him- 
self from their dominion. The old proverb 
is every day verified before you, of the skin 
of the Ethiopian and the spots of the leop- 
ard. But, if thus powerful for evil, habit is 
no less powerful for good. If in some 
cases it be stronger than principle, and defy 
all the expostulations of religion, even when 
the miserable man is convinced that his 
safety lies in breaking from it ; then, when 
enlisted as the ally of principle, when coup- 
led with faith, and made the fellow-worker of 
piety, how unspeakable may be its aid tow- 
ard the security and permanence of virtue. 

Take heed therefore to your habits. Al- 
low yourself to form none but such as are 
innocent, and such as may help your efforts 
to do well. In the arrangement of your 
business, in the methods of your household 
and family, in the disposal of your time, in 



I 



174 

the choice, seasons, and mode of your re- 
creation, in your love of company, and your 
selection of books, — in these preserve a 
simple and blameless taste. Do not allow 
any of them to be such as shall offer an 
obstacle to serious thought, and induce a 
state of feeling indisposed to religious ex- 
ercises. Especially do not allow them so to 
enter the frame and texture of your life, that 
every effort of virtue and devotion shall be 
a pitched battle with some cherished incli- 
nation, or sturdy habit. This is to increase 
most unwisely and needlessly the trials and 
perils of a religious course. It is to raise 
up for yourself obstacles and difficulties, 
beyond those which properly belong to your 
situation. Rather therefore arrange every 
thing in your customary pursuits and indul- 
gences to favor the grand end of your be- 
ing ; so that every act of piety and faith 
shall be coincident with it ; so that little or 
no effort shall be required to maintain the 
steady order of daily duty ; and instead of 
an opposition, a struggle, a contest, when- 
ever principle asserts its claims, you shall 
find the ready consent and hearty coopera- 
tion of all the habitual preferences, tastes, 



175 

and occupations of your life. He in whom 
this is so, is the happy man. He is the 
consistent man. He is the man to be con- 
gratulated, to be admired, to be imitated. 
Universal harmony reigns within him ; no 
oppositions, no jarring contentions mar his 
peace. With him the flesh and the spirit 
are no longer contrary the one to the other. 
His duty and his inclination are all one. 
There is no dispute between what he ought 
to do, and what he wishes to do. But with 
one consenting voice, heart and life move 
on harmoniously, accustomed to and lov- 
ing the same things. To him the yoke is 
indeed easy and the burden light. To him 
heaven is already begun ; and when he is 
welcomed at last to the joy of his Lord, it 
will be to a joy which his regulated spirit 
has already tasted in the labors and pleas- 
ures of obedience below. 



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